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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



JESUS CRUCIFIED 



READINGS AND MEDITATIONS 



ON THE 



Pa$$ion and Death of Our Redeemer 



BY 

REV. WALTER ELLIOTT 

of the Paulist Fathers 



"That I may know Him, and the power of His resurrection, and the 
fellowship of His sufferings, being made conformable to His Death." 

— Phil. iii., 10. 



New York 

THE COLUMBUS PRESS 

120-122 West 6oth Street 

1906 



ttifcil otetat: 



REMIGIUS LAFORT, S.T.L-, 
Censor Librorum. 



imprimatur : 






JOHN M. FARLEY, D.D., 

Archbishop of New York, 



Copyright, 1906, by "The Missionary Society of St. Paul 
the Apostle in the State of New York." 




Printed at the Columbus Press, 120 West 6oth St. 



CONTENTS, 

PAGE 

Preface, . . - vii 

Introduction, I 



FIRST PART. 
THE AGONY IN THE GARDEN. 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I. The Treason of Judas, 14 

II. Why Jesus began His Passion with the Agony in the 

Garden, . „ 22 

III. "Sorrowful Unto Death," 27 

IV. The Contrition of Jesus, 32 

V. Father, Remove this Chalice from Me, .... 39 

VI. Thy Will be Done, 43 

VII. Our Redeemer's Watchers, 47 

VIII. Jesus is Comforted by an Angel, 52 

IX. Jesus Sweats Blood, . . . . . . .57 

X. The End of the Agony in the Garden 60 



SECOND PART. 

JESUS IN THE POWER OF THE HIGH PRIESTS. 

I. Jesus Goes to Meet His Enemies, 67 

II. Shall We Strike With the Sword? .... 74 

III. Jesus a Prisoner, 80 

IV. Jesus Arraigned Before the High Priests, . . . 85 
V. The Silence of Jesus, 89 

VI. The Judges, the Witnesses, the Evidence, ... 94 
VII. Jesus is Condemned to Death by the Chief Priests, . 99 

VIII. Peter's Denial, .104 

IX. Peter's Repentance and Pardon, 108 

X. Jesus is Mocked, 114 

XI. The Fate of Judas, . .121 



IV 



Contents, 



THIRD PART. 
JESUS BEFORE PILATE. 

CHAPTER 

I. Jesus is Led Before Pontius Pilate, 
II. Pilate Refuses to Condemn Jesus, 

III. Jesus Before Herod, 

IV. Barabbas is Preferred to Jesus, 
V. Jesus is Scourged, . 

VI. Jesus is Crowned with Thorns, 
VII. Jesus is Mocked by Pilate's Soldiers, 
VIII. Behold the Man, .... 
IX. Pilate Rebukes Jesus for His Silence, 
X. Pilate Delivers Jesus Up to be Crucified, 



PAGE 

127 
133 
139 
144 

153 
159 
163 
167 
172 
179 



FOURTH PART. 

THE WA Y OF THE CROSS. 

I. The Cross, . 187 

II. Simon Helps Jesus to Carry the Cross, . . . .194 

III. The Women of Jerusalem, . . . . . . 200 

IV. Jesus Suffers from the Wavering Faith of His Friends, 207 
V. Jesus is Dishonored in the Byes of the Jewish People, 214 



FIFTH PART. 



THE CRUCIFIXION. 

I. On Calvary, 218 

II. Jesus is Stripped, 222 

III. "Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews," . . . 228 

IV. Jesus and the Two Thieves, 235 

V. Jesus is Nailed to the Cross, ...... 240 

VI. Jesus is lifted up on the Cross, 245 

VII. The Spectacle of Jesus Crucified, 250 



Contents, 



SIXTH PART. 
THE SEVEN LAST WORDS. 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Jesus Speaks from the Cross 257 

II. Jesus is Taunted by His Enemies, .... 261 

III. The First Word, 266 

IV. The Second Word, , . 273 

V. The Third Word, 279 

VI. The Third Word (continued), . . . . .286 

VII. The Third Word (concluded), 291 

VIII. The Fourth Word, 297 

IX. The Fifth Word, .305 

X. The Sixth Word, 313 

XI. The Seventh Word,J 318 



SEVENTH PART. 



THE DEATH OF JESUS AND HIS BURIAL. 

I. " No Man Taketh My Life Away From Me," . . 324 

II. " And Bowing His Head, He gave up the Ghost/ ' . 329 

III. The Portents in Earth and Sky, 335 

IV. " Indeed this was the Son of God, . . . . 339 
V. The Side of Jesus is Opened with a Lance, . . . 346 

VI. Jesus is Taken Down from the Cross, .... 353 

VII. The Burial of Jesus, 361 

VIII. Watching the Sepulchre, 368 



PREFACE, 



In the literature of our Redeemer's passion and death 
there are great authors, whose works are of permanent 
value for meditation on that most sacred subject. Such 
are St. Bernard, St. Bonaventure, St. Alphonsus, Ludolph 
the Saxon, the Augustinian Father Thomas of Jesus, and 
some others. But men must always write on this theme, 
giving us from time to time books of more or less merit, 
aiding devout souls to consider more intelligently the 
great events of our redemption, and contributing by new 
works to a fresh study of the ever ancient and ever new 
lessons of Christ's passion. These less gifted writers 
stimulate within their own circle of influence, however 
narrow, a more intimate familiarity with Jesus Crucified, 
and play a useful part in the curro." devotional life of 
the Christian people. 

To this class the author would wish to belong. Wholly 
incapable of writing a book on our Redeemer's sufferings 
and death of enduring worth, his contribution to this 
supremely important theme will, he hopes, be found of 
some passing interest to ordinary Christians. 

If he has succeeded in this, he asks a prayer for the 
least and the latest messenger from Calvary. 



INTRODUCTION. 



Our Savior's Foreknowledge and Prophecies of 
His Passion.* 

Jesus was always conscious of the fate that awaited 
Him. And although He had many joys, holding interior 
communion with the source of all bliss, the unveiled 
deity itself, with whose very nature He was united in the 
person of the divine Word, yet He was His whole life 
long essentially a Redeemer. Whatever occupied His 
thoughts, His preoccupation of mind was our redemption. 
And if His happiness was very great, especially in His 

* The great dogma of the Atonement is thus expressed in the cate* 
chism of the Council of Trent, on the fourth article of the Apostles' 
Creed: "In His passion and death, the Son of God, our Savior, purposed 
the atonement and obliteration of the sins of all ages, by offering for them 
to His Father a full and superabundant satisfaction. And what adds to 
the sublimity of this atonement, Christ not only suffered for sinners, but 
sinners were also the authors and ministers of all the torments which He 
endured. . . . The passion of our Lord was our deliverance from 
sin; for, says St. John, 'He hath loved us, and washed us from our sins 
in His own blood' (Apoc. i. 5); and the Apostle says: 'He hath 
quickened you together with Him, forgiving you all offences, blotting out 
the handwriting of the decree which was against us, which was contrary to 
us, and the same He took out of the way, fastening it to the cross' (Col. 
ii. 13). In the next place, it has rescued us from the tyranny of the devil, 
for our Lord Himself says: 'Now is the judgment of the world; now shall 
the princes of the world be cast out; and I, if I be lifted up from the 
earth, will draw all things to Myself (John xii. 31). He has also dis- 
charged the penalty due to our sins. And as no more grateful and ac- 
ceptable sacrifice could have been offered to God, it has reconciled us to 
the Father (II. Cor. v. 19), appeased His wrath and propitiated His 
justice. Finally, by taking away our sins it has opened heaven to us, 
which was closed by the common sin of mankind. 'Having, therefore, 
brethren, a confidence in the entering into the sanctuary by the blood of 
Christ' (Heb. x. 19)." 



2 Introduction. 

earlier years, in the company of Mary and Joseph and 
many an Israelite without guile, yet from the moment of 
His conception till His last sigh upon the cross, the pre- 
vailing sentiment of His life was His identity with our 
fallen race and every member of it for all the purposes 
of atonement. He was always conscious that "Him 
(Christ) for us He (God) hath made sin, that we might 
be made the justice of God in Him" (II. Cor. v. 21). 

His foreknowledge of His passion began with Jesus' 
life. And it must have been communicated to His mother 
also from the beginning. We may well believe that at 
the Annunciation, Mary was told rf her Son's passion 
and death, and this was made yet plainer at the Presen- 
tation in the temple, when Simeon said to her: "This 
Child is set for the fall and for the resurrection of many 
in Israel, and for a sign that shall be contradicted; and 
thine own soul a sword shall pierce, that out of many 
hearts thoughts may be revealed'' (Luke ii. 34, 35). She 
was thus, after her Son, the first depository of the proph- 
ecy of Calvary, as she was to be the foremost associate 
of its sorrows. 

The interior life of Jesus from His first moments was 
thus tinged with the gloom of Calvary. And His external 
devotions must have been from earliest childhood shaped 
and directed by the same over-mastering sense of His 
office as our advocate with His Father, and our substitute 
in bearing the penalty of our sins. To this was joined 
His thoughts and plans about the teaching of the truth 
of God, and the foundation of His Church to perpetuate 
that teaching and distribute the favors won for men by 
His death on the cross. Teacher of men and their Re- 
deemer He was, and must always have felt Himself to be. 



Introduction. 3 

Hence His favorite prayers were the pleadings of an 
affectionate heart for the pardon of His guilty brethren. 
His devotional reading was for the most part about Him- 
self in the ancient types and prophecies of the Hebrew 
Scriptures; how could it be otherwise, since these sad 
pages were pictures of His own destiny as our represen- 
tative before His Father's judgment seat? With what 
feelings Jesus must have read the words of Isaias : "He 
shall be led as a sheep to the slaughter, and shall be dumb 
as a lamb before His shearers" (Isaias liii. 7). The 
spirit of sacrifice in the heart of Jesus gave to those words 
a painful fascination. And all of that marvelous chapter 
was both an oracle of woe and a source of light and 
strength to His soul, forearming Him with a fortitude 
impossible for us to comprehend. Read the twenty-first 
Psalm, and feel its awful power of sadness, and then im- 
agine, if you can, what Jesus felt as day after day He 
read this plain forecast of His betrayal, nailing to the 
cross, torment of thirst, insults of enemies, and at last 
death. And read the seventy-eighth and eighty-seventh 
Psalms, and as their awful tones stir your heart, think 
how Jesus must have read them, every word of their 
plaintive messages being addressed to Himself and treat- 
ing of the last and greatest events of His own career. 

We can also imagine His interest in the ancient types 
of His person and office. He saw Himself foreshadowed 
by Abel, the innocent victim of his own brother's hate 
(Gen. iv. 8) ; by guileless Isaac offered by his own father 
to prove his fidelity to God (Gen. xxii. 6) ; most vividly 
foretold by the lamb of the Passover, whose blood, 
sprinkled on the doorposts of the Israelites in Egypt to 
warn away the destroying angel, was the emblem of His 



4 Introduction. 

own blood poured out for the world's salvation at the gate 
of Jerusalem, and sprinkled upon every elect soul (Exod. 
xii. 5) ; of the brazen serpent, lifted up in the desert to 
cure a stricken people of both the guilt of their sin and 
its penalty (Num. xxi. 8). 

There can be no manner of doubt but that He was 
ever offering His Father painfully earnest prayers of re- 
pentance for our sins. It is in this sense that Jesus was 
a man of sorrows and acquainted with affliction (Isaias 
liii. 3). All that we mean by contrition for sin, com- 
punction of heart, shame for misdeeds, Jesus felt continu- 
ally; grief for sin was His set and established state of 
mind. Sorrow for our offences, deep and continuous, 
was habitual with Him, as was His realization that He 
was one of us and the leader of us all, involved with us 
in all that is meant by sin and iniquity except personal 
guilt — the shame, the agony of remorse, the sting of con- 
scious ingratitude, the dread of eternal loss. 

Be it remembered, too, that while His knowledge of 
our sinfulness was absolute, at the same time His sensi- 
tiveness to the injury done His Father was perfect. We 
know that His love for us, both as a ruined race and as 
individual culprits, was the highest endowment of His 
human nature, next to that of His love for His Father; 
and that these two sentiments were ever in conflict in His 
soul, and ever resulted in a painful victory of pity over 
justice. 

Another thought of much importance in understand- 
ing our Redeemer's mind, is that His sweetest consolation 
must have been His forecast that the repentant sinner's 
hope of pardon and its final possession was to be entirely 
dependent on His own bitter sufferings and death. Thus, 



Introduction. 5 

the anticipation of His sufferings, if it saddened our 
Savior, also inspired Him with zeal for His atonement. 
Knowing beforehand all the terrible details of His fate, 
He accepted them willingly, and even longed for them. 
"I have a baptism wherewith I am to be baptized/' He 
said, "and how am I straightened until it be accom- 
plished?" (Luke xii. 50). Such was the significance of 
His baptism by John, which Jesus sought at the very out- 
set of His public life. He took His place humbly among 
His precursor's penitents, confessing we know not what 
summary of the sins of mankind as if they were all His 
own, and making no distinction between Himself and the 
great multitude of sinners gathered by John's call to 
repentance. 

After Jesus had begun to preach He almost immedi- 
ately foretold, at least obscurely, His crucifixion. At His 
first visit to Jerusalem He said to Nicodemus — destined 
to take Jesus' corpse down from His cross : "And as 
Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert, so must the Son 
of Man be lifted up, that whosoever believeth in Him 
may not perish, but may have life everlasting" (John 
iii. 15). 

At His transfiguration He discoursed with Moses and 
Elias "of His decease that He should accomplish in Jeru- 
salem" (Luke ix. 31). Doubtless the topic of this un- 
earthly conference was made known by Him to the three 
disciples who were with Him on Mount Tabor. They 
could by no means understand why, in the midst of His 
glory, He should discourse with these exalted personages 
about His death. The day was yet distant when they 
would exclaim with St. Paul : "God forbid that I should 
glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ; by 



6 Introduction. 

whom the world is crucified to me, and I to the world" 
(Gal. vi. 14). They were yet to appreciate that it was 
precisely by His death that He was to w r in His cause and 
theirs, as well as show the extent of God's love for men. 
His affectionate heart would dwell on the very details of 
His death in company with these holy men of old, whom 
He had called from their rest in Limbo to counsel with 
Him about God's purposes in sending His Son on earth. 
Stripes, thorns, spittings, nails, and the awful pangs of 
death were the object of His most ardent desires, and 
therefore the choice subject of His discourse with those 
grand old heroes of the ancient religion of God, and that 
even amid the heavenly splendors of His transfiguration. 
They would fully understand Him and would say : "It is 
good for us to be here"; but in a different spirit from 
Peter, knowing as they did that the sufferings of Christ 
about which they had discoursed with Him were to be the 
sovereign remedy for man's fatal malady, and the perfect 
manifestation of the divine love for sinners. Little did 
the disciples realize all this ; little do Christians generally 
understand the relation of suffering to glory. 

Towards the close of our Lord's second year among 
His disciples He began to impress upon them w r ith much 
earnestness that His time with them was short, and that 
He would end His life by falling into the hands of His 
enemies and being executed as a criminal. And doubt- 
less the increasing sadness of His manner tallied with 
the more frequent mention of His passion. The actual 
instrument of His death was suggested by His first 
mention of the cross, which was in connection with the 
virtue of self-denial: "He that taketh not up his cross 
and followeth Me, is not worthy of Me" (Luke ix. 37). 



Introduction. 7 

At the very time when Jesus was the object of almost 
universal popular worship, He repeatedly cast a damper 
on His disciples' spirits by showing them what would 
happen at His final visit to Jerusalem. As in the six- 
teenth chapter of St. Matthew (21-23) : "Jesus began 
to show to His disciples, that He must go to Jerusalem, 
and to suffer many things from the ancients and scribes 
and chief priests, and to be put to death, and the third 
day rise again." Against this dreadful doom Peter boldly 
protested ; "Lord," said he, "be it far from Thee, this shall 
not be unto Thee." And Jesus rebuked him, and through 
him all the other disciples, who doubtless shared his feel- 
ings of repugnance : "Go behind Me, Satan, thou art a 
scandal unto Me, because thou savorest not the things 
that are of God, but the things that are of men." 

Meanwhile He was careful to affirm His entire liberty 
of choice in His passion and death. He did so long be- 
fore He died, and by deeds as well as by words, holding 
His enemies off from Him in various ways plainly super- 
natural, and sometimes strikingly miraculous; because, 
as He said to His disciples, His time was not yet come. 
His freedom was the all necessary condition of His merit, 
which was to win for us His Father's love. Hence He 
said to the Jews: "Therefore doth the Father love Me, 
because I lay down My life, that I may take it again. 
No man taketh it away from Me, but I lay it down of 
Myself; and I have power to lay it down, and I have 
power to take it up again. This commandment have I 
received of My Father" (John x. 17, 18). Sometimes 
His prophecy was given under a figure, as : "I am the 
Good Shepherd; the Good Shepherd giveth His life for 
His sheep" (John x. 11). Or by a parable, as that of the 



8 Introduction. 

wicked husbandman killing the son and heir of the lord of 
the vineyard (Matt. xxi. 39). 

He multiplied these saddening forecasts during His 
last journey to Jerusalem. On the very eve, it would 
seem, of His triumphal entry into the city, at a banquet 
which might almost be called a public one, His head and 
feet were anointed by Mary Magdalen. He distinctly 
affirmed that this solemn act of homage was done for His 
approaching burial, and He repeated and insisted on that 
prophecy (Mark xiv. 3-9). 

A little later, and after He had ended a long discourse 
to a great multitude of His followers, He said in private 
to His more intimate disciples : "You know that after 
two days shall be the pasch, and the Son of Man shall be 
delivered up to be crucified ,, (Matt. xxvi. 2). This was 
but reminding them of what He had said not long before, 
the most detailed forecast of His end: "Behold, we go 
up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man shall be betrayed 
to the chief priests, and to the scribes and ancients, and 
they shall condemn Him to death, and shall deliver Him 
to the Gentiles, and they shall mock Him, and spit on Him, 
and scourge Him, and kill Him: and the third day He 
shall rise again" (Mark x. 33, 34). St. Luke tells us 
(xviii. 34) that this amazed the Apostles ; and if it dis- 
tressed them, what deepening shadows must have been 
gathering about His own soul. They were slow and dull 
men, but at last they began to realize His awful purpose. 
He was going to leave behind Him His miraculous 
powers, and, all helpless and alone, to deliver Himself 
up to the fierce hate of His enemies. But the disciples 
were now afraid to protest, or even to question Him; 
His severe admonition to Peter was not forgotten. 



Introduction. 9 

It is true that He often coupled with the prophecy of 
His death that of His resurrection. But if this aroused 
their imaginations it did not relieve their distress. And 
what did He mean by the words "I shall rise again"? 
They knew what it meant to be killed ; they were shocked 
by His plain statement that at His next visit to Jerusalem 
the chief priests would seize Him and kill Him. But 
"rise again"? What did that mean? And of what use 
would that be if He and they had been already vanquished 
and ruined? What would His poor ghost be able to do 
against His triumphant enemies? 

As to the other parties to the impending tragedy, it is 
certain that a year before our Redeemer's death, the lead- 
ing Pharisees and Sadducees had made up their minds 
to kill Him; and this was just about the time He began 
more plainly to foretell His fate. The formal decision, as 
we may call it, to destroy Him was taken after the raising 
of Lazarus from the grave. The chief priests and the 
leading Pharisees called a council, at which it was quickly 
agreed that Jesus must by some means and in some way 
be put to death. "From that day therefore they devised 
to put Him to death" (John xi. 46-54). 

But their devisings all failed. Jesus taught daily in 
the temple, and in spite of a network of spies and emis- 
saries, He traversed the public streets mornings and even- 
ings, openly and with entire impunity. This was because 
He was to fix His own times and moments, and also be- 
cause one of His own disciples was to be the personal 
instrument of His destruction. Meanwhile His forebod- 
ings afflicted His spirit deeply. "Now is My soul 
troubled," said He. "And what shall I say? Father, save 
Me from this hour. But for this cause I came unto this 
hour" (John xii. 2j). This is the twilight of the gloom 



io Introduction. 

that overshadowed Him in the Garden of Olives. But 
besides being hindered by the self-bestowed immunity of 
Jesus, the conspirators were embarrassed by other causes. 
"Many of the chief men (of the Pharisees) also believed 
in Him" (John xii. 42), and doubtless the chief plotters 
feared that they would offer some resistance. The masses 
of the people, too, were enthusiastic friends of Jesus 
(Matt. xxvi. 5) ; they had yet to be corrupted and bul- 
lied into acquiescence in His destruction. 

The plotters were, in fact, at a standstill in their 
schemes, when Judas, the infamous wretch who had been 
nourished in the very bosom of his divine Master, gave 
them their opportunity for arresting Him, and for doing 
it safely and secretly. Thus the arrest of Jesus was 
planned by a traitorous Apostle and carried out under his 
direction. "Then went one of the twelve, who was called 
Judas Iscariot, to the chief priests, and said to them : 
'What will you give me, and I will deliver Him unto you V 
But they appointed him thirty pieces of silver. And from 
thenceforth he sought opportunity to betray Him" (Matt, 
xxvi. 14-16). 

We now come to the Last Supper. It was the celebra- 
tion of the paschal solemnity by the eating of the lamb 
of the Passover, the ancient type of our Redeemer and 
of His being slain for the salvation of mankind. But 
the Last Supper is especially memorable on account of 
the institution of the Blessed Eucharist, by means of 
which Jesus was to perpetuate to all time and distribute 
to all men the benefits of the atonement to be consum- 
mated on the morrow. He had ardently longed for this 
hour of affectionate leave-taking, and of imparting to us 
His own self in the sacrifice of the Mass and Holy Com- 
munion. As He sat down with His Apostles, He said to 



Introduction. 1 1 

them : "With desire I have desired to eat this pasch with 
you, before I suffer" (Luke xxii. 15). 

As the end was now at hand, Jesus was wholly ab- 
sorbed in love for His disciples, the sorrowful love of a 
Redeemer. St. John says that "Jesus, knowing that His 
hour was come, that He should pass out of this world to 
the Father, having loved His own who are in the world, 
He loved them to the end" (John xiii. 1). His washing 
of His disciples' feet then took place. It was a farewell 
ceremony, invented by His affection, because He knew 
"that He goeth to God" (John xiii. 3). His efforts to 
save Judas from treason and suicide followed. It is one 
of the most touching episodes in all this heart-moving 
history — an effort futile as to Jesus, but, as an example 
of divine patience, very efficacious to save multitudes of 
other sinners. 

His long discourse to His disciples was now begun, 
being a summary of His most spiritual teachings, and 
ending with His sublime prayer to His Father for His 
Church and its pastors. He interrupted these utterances 
by foretelling the rout and dispersion of the Apostles and 
Peter's denial of Him that night, as well as by His mys- 
terious instruction about the two swords, all plainly 
prophetic of His impending fate — plainly prophetic to us 
who know the whole history so well, and whose minds 
have been formed to His faith by the knowledge of what 
afterwards happened; not so to His Apostles. "Lord," 
said St. Thomas, "we know not whither Thou goest, and 
how can we know the way?" (John xiv. 5). Their 
hearts were saddened by His words, but their minds were 
none the less mystified. It was midway in His discourse 
that He instituted the Blessed Eucharist, the anticipation 



1 2 Introduction. 

in a marvelous form of His death the following day, as 
well as its everlasting memorial. 'The Lord Jesus, the 
same night in which He was betrayed, took bread, and 
giving thanks, broke, and said: Take ye, and eat; this 
is My body, which shall be delivered for you; this do for 
the commemoration of Me. In like manner also the 
chalice, after He had supped, saying : This chalice is the 
new testament in My blood, which shall be shed for you ; 
this do ye, as often as you shall drink, for the commem- 
oration of Me. For as often as you shall eat this bread, 
and drink the chalice, you shall show the death of the 
Lord, until He come" (I. Cor. xi. 23-26; Luke xxii. 
17-20). Thus He made the greatest act of our religion 
the memorial of the greatest act of His life, namely, His 
death. He had appropriately reserved its institution to 
"the same night in which He was betrayed." 

• Thus passed the earlier hours of that memorable 
night, the eve of His crucifixion. He had devoted the 
time to His Apostles alone. He had washed their feet 
most humbly. He had celebrated the paschal banquet 
with them, as a Hebrew father amongst his dearest chil- 
dren. He had instituted the great Sacrament of our 
Altars. He had made a desperate effort to save Judas. 
He had sternly warned Peter of his denial of Him; and 
even as He did so, He lodged a seed of hope in that 
Apostle's bosom against the almost inevitable temptation 
to despair, foretelling him that he would be converted 
from his momentary defection. He had taught them, 
during His discourse, very explicitly, the most essential 
principle of their religious life, the indwelling of the di- 
vine spirit in the Christian Church and Christian soul. 
He had recalled to their minds all His fundamental teach- 



Introduction. 13 

ings. And His affectionate heart had fired His every 
word with love, so that among all the sacred writings 
there are none to compare with these chapters — xiii.-xvii. 
— of St. John. 

At last His hour was come, He must go forth to His 
death. He lifted up His voice and solemnly intoned a 
Psalm. They all joined in the plaintive chant, and sang 
the inspired words their religion and their race with 
deep emotion. Then He led them out into the night, all 
resplendent with the beams of the paschal moon. But its 
brightness mocked their souls, which were oppressed with 
gloom, as they followed their beloved Master to the Mount 
of Olives. Who can tell the feelings of His heart? But 
to study His feelings and to narrate His sufferings is the 
task now before us. 



PART I. 

The Agony in the Garden. 

Chapter I. 

The Treason of Judas, 

Then one of the disciples, Judas Iscariot, he that was about 
to betray Him, said: Why was not this ointment sold for three 
hundred pence, and given to the poor? Now he said this, not 
because he cared for the poor, but because he was a thief, and 
having the purse, carried the things that were put therein. Jesus 
therefore said: Let her alone, that she may keep it against the 
day of My burial. For the poor you have always with you; but 
Me you have not always. And Satan entered into Judas, who 
was surnamed Iscariot, one of the Twelve. And he went and dis- 
coursed with the chief priests and the magistrates how he might 
betray Him to them. And he said to them : What will you give 
me, and I will deliver Him to you. And they were glad, and 
covenanted to give him thirty pieces of silver. And he promised. 
And from henceforth he sought opportunity to betray Him, in 
the absence of the multitude (Matt. xxvi. 14-16; Mark xiv. 
10-11; Luke xxii. 3-6; John xii. 4-8). 

And when supper was done (the devil having now put into 
the heart of Judas Iscariot, the son of Simon, to betray Him) 
. . . Jesus began to wash the feet of his disciples. . . . He 

Note. — The passages of Scripture at the heads of chapters are the 
descriptions of the events under consideration given by the Evangelists. 
Their different accounts are in each case blended together into one, 
omitting only verbal repetitions. A few texts from other parts of Scripture 
are occasionally added. Taken altogether, these headings form the com- 
plete inspired history of the passion. 



The Treason of Judas. 1 5 

said to them: ... He that eateth bread with Me shall lift 
up his heel against me. . . . When Jesus had said these things 
He was troubled in spirit. And he said: Amen, I say to you, 
that one of you is about to betray Me. Behold, the hand of him 
that betrayeth Me is with Me on the table, one ot the Twelve, 
who dippeth with Me his hand in the dish, he shall betray Me. 
The Son of Man indeed goeth, as it is written ot Him ; but woe to 
that man by whom the Son of Man shall be betrayed. It were 
better for him, if that man had not been born. 

And Judas that betrayed Him, answering, said: Is it I, 
Rabbi? He saith to him: Thou hast said it. Now there was 
leaning on Jesus' bosom one of His disciples whom Jesus loved. 
Simon Peter, therefore, beckoned to him and said to him : Who 
is it of whom He speaketh? He, therefore, leaning on the breast 
of Jesus, saith to Him: Lord, who is it? Jesus answered: He 
it is to whom I shall reach bread dipped. And when he had 
dipped the bread, He gave it to Judas Iscariot, the son of Simon. 
And after the morsel, Satan entered into him. And Jesus said 
to him: That which thou dost, do quickly. Now no man at the 
table knew to what purpose He said this unto him. For some 
thought, because Judas had the purse, that Jesus had said to him : 
Buy those things which we have need of for the festival-day; or 
that he should give something to the poor. He, therefore, having 
received the morsel, went out immediately. And it was night. 
When he therefore was gone out, Jesus said: Now is the Son 
of Man glorified, and God is glorified in Him. . . . Father, 
those whom Thou gavest Me have I kept, and none of them is 
lost, but the son of perdition, that the Scripture may be fulfiled 
(Matt. xxvi. 21-25; Mark xiv. 18-21; Luke xxi. 21-23; John 
xiii. 21-31). 

The fall of Judas was first indicated by his contempt 
for the penitent Magdalen. He despised her act of love 
in anointing the feet of Jesus with costly spices. Why 
is this waste? he protested. Why did she not give the 
price of the ointment to me for the use of the poor ; and 
this he said "because he was a thief." It is therefore cer- 



1 6 The Agony hi the Garden^ 

tain that he had already gravely transgressed by stealing 
the offerings of his Master's benefactors, committed to 
him for the daily wants of the little company and for dis- 
tribution to the poor. 

So it has come to this : in the work of our salvation 
Jesus must mourn over an Apostle who stole money from 
Him and his brother Apostles, and then robbed the poor ; 
and fin-ally traded away his Master's very life for money. 

We thus know what devil it was that entered into 
Judas, made all welcome and at home — the demon of 
avarice. How strange that love of money should gain 
mastery in the household of Jesus, who was without scrip 
or purse, roof or home, and a divine model of disin- 
terestedness; and as He practised, so He constantly 
preached, contempt for all worldly possessions. In spite 
of this, and in the immediate companionship of the poor 
Man of Nazareth, Judas first gradually and insensibly, 
then deliberately and steadfastly, loved money. At last 
he loved it well enough to sell his Master for it. 

The hatred of the chief priests and the covetousness 
of Judas were well mated. Said the one party : "If you 
give me money, I will give you Jesus." "Done," said 
the other, "and glad of the bargain. 'And they were 
glad.' • Well might they be. Here was one of His most 
intimate friends offering to sell Jesus for money, and for 
no great sum at that — to sell His very kisses. Their 
hopes were at once restored, they now had their dreaded 
enemy almost entrapped. And, besides, such an offer as 
that of Judas could mean — so they must have thought — 
no less than a general defection among the disciples of 
the Nazarene. And the price demanded, how trifling it 
seemed to those men. Later on they will publicly give up 



The Treason of Judas. 1 7 

their very race and nation to idolatrous Caesar to com- 
pass the death of Jesus ; now they have only to pay thirty 
pieces of silver to get Him in their power. 

It was after thus bargaining with the chief priests that 
Judas came and took his usual place at his Master's table. 
In this he was playing the part of a spy, in order the more 
effectually to play the part of a traitor. He went there 
to make sure that his victim would keep His custom, by 
going that night to pray with His disciples in the Garden 
of Olives, for that would facilitate His arrest by the chief 
priests. Imagine, if you can, the sorrow of Jesus at all 
this, for He knew it all perfectly well : that one of His 
Apostles would betray Him to His enemies, and for 
money ; would not wait to be tempted by them, but would 
take the first step himself and go of his own accord to 
bargain for His price ; and then would carefully arrange 
the time and place of His arrest. 

Imagine, too, what a sore heart Jesus had as, when 
the supper was over, He lovingly washed the feet of 
Judas, who He knew had already betrayed Him. How 
He longed to be allowed to wash that man's soul, spotted 
with the crime of treason against his divine Master. We 
can hardly doubt but that Jesus secretly appealed to Judas 
while washing and drying his feet, since He did so soon 
after and more than once and most pointedly, almost pub- 
licly. Perhaps our Redeemer managed to whisper: 
Judas, dost thou remember the words of the prophet 
about Me? "He that eateth bread with Me, shall lift up 
his heel against me" (John xiii. 18). Wilt thou spurn 
Me with this foot that I am washing and kissing, 
thou that I have loved so well, thou that hast eaten and 
drunk with Me and lived with Me for three years, thou, 



1 8 The Agony in the Garden. 

My Apostle ? Wilt thou deliver Me up to My enemies to 
be crucified ? 

And so Jesus washed the feet of Judas. If the traitor 
outranked all sinners that night, Jesus excelled even his 
baseness by His charity in washing his feet. 

Jesus was not done with Judas yet by any means. 
For when, after the washing of the feet, they all sat down 
again at the supper table, He placed Judas near Himself, 
determined upon another effort to save him. How deeply 
He must have felt the prophet's words : "If My enemy 
had reviled Me, I would verily have borne with it. And 
if he that hated Me had spoken great things against Me, 
I would perhaps have hidden Myself from him. But 
thou, a man of one mind, My guide and My familiar, who 
didst take sweetmeats together with Me" (Ps. liv. 13=15). 

The endeavor that Jesus now made to save Judas was 
an open one. It was customary for the members of a 
Jewish household to dip bread into the gravy of the pascal 
dish and eat it together as a token of family union and 
affection, a ceremony which Jesus had delayed by wash- 
ing His disciples' feet. As they began to reach their 
hands towards the dish, Jesus suddenly exclaimed that 
one of them eating with Him was about to betray Him, 
and this He said with evident emotion. And He pro- 
ceeded : "One of the Twelve, who dippeth with Me his 
hand in the dish, he shall betray Me. The Son of Man 
indeed goeth, as it is written of Him; but woe to that 
man by whom the Son of Man shall be betrayed. It were 
better for him, if that man had not been born." As He 
spoke these awful words, He pushed His hand against 
that of Judas, perhaps grasped it — that hand which itched 
for the clutch of money rather than the grasp of Jesus' 



The Treason of Judas. 19 

love. Our Redeemer managed to conceal from the other 
Apostles His close contact with Judas' hand, but His 
voice was loud, His emotion was evident, and His words 
reflected upon the whole company, and involved them all 
in mutual suspicion. 

All the innocent ones cried out together: "Is it I, 
Rabbi ?" And so did Judas — how could he help it ? He 
alone was answered, and being close to Jesus it was done 
in a whisper : "Thou hast said it." Jesus hoped that this 
direct accusation would terrify the false disciple and save 
him by fear, as he was proof against the appeal of love. 
But the attempt failed, and now Jesus for the present 
gave him up. 

But John, being, as is evident, next to Jesus on the 
other side, was prompted by Peter to make a more pointed 
inquiry as to who was the culprit: "Lord, who is it?" 
Then Jesus said : "He it is to whom I shall reach bread 
dipped." And He gave the piece of bread to Judas. The 
secret was out, the Lord had told his faithful disciples 
who was the spy and the traitor among them. Yet not 
clearly enough ; for Peter and John did not fully under- 
stand, and the Lord knew this well. But He gained His 
purpose, which was to hasten Judas' departure, all pres- 
ent hope of saving him now being gone. 

After Judas ate that morsel, Satan took entire pos- 
session of him, and Jesus saw it. His old eagerness to 
suffer the last penalty of our sins returned upon Him, and 
He positively hurried the spy away upon his dreadful 
errand, saying: "That which thou dost, do quickly." 
And Judas arose and left the house immediately. A 
gleam of holy joy is in the words of Jesus which fol- 
lowed the traitor's exit : "Now is the Son of Man glori- 



20 The Agony in the Garden. 

fied, and God is glorified in Him." All this preceded, as 
many think, the institution of the Holy Communion; at 
which, according to these authorities, the traitor was not 
present. 

And thus parted Jesus and Judas in the supper room, 
to meet again in the Garden of Olives, when our Re- 
deemer, betrayed and ruined, would yet make one last 
effort to save His betrayer. 

And so our Redeemer went on with the institution of 
the Eucharist. Whilst Judas was breathlessly running 
to the chief priests to hurry forward the event whicTi 
would earn him his blood-money, while he was gathering 
the soldiers to arrest Jesus and deliver Him to death, 
Jesus was giving Himself away in the Holy Communion 
to every affectionate follower — body and blood, soul and 
divinity. And later in the night, while Judas was ad- 
vancing at the head of a band of soldiers to destroy Him, 
Jesus was waiting for him in the Garden of Olives, weep- 
ing for the sins of men, sorrowful even unto death, sweat- 
ing blood in an agony of love. 

Thus the betrayal of Christ and the love of money 
are inseparably joined in our sacred history; let those 
who are eager money-getters bear it in mind. Behold the 
love that is strong enough to conquer love for Christ, and 
that in the breast of an Apostle. He was a man chosen 
by Jesus as His special friend and associate, and had lived 
with Him for three long years. Every hour of that time 
the love of Jesus for men, and especially for the favorite 
few of whom Judas was one, went on increasing until it 
tormented Him with the desire to die for them, and it 
overflowed at last in His heart's blood. And on Judas' 
part, whatever original love he may have had for his 



The Treason of Judas. 2 1 

Master, it steadily grew weaker, and love of money grew 
stronger, until it drove him to sell Jesus for thirty pieces 
of silver. 

"Nothing can be compared to a faithful friend, and 
no weight of gold and silver is able to countervail the 
goodness of his fidelity" (Eccles. vi. 15). Not so thought 
this Apostle ; thirty pieces of silver outweighed "the good- 
ness of his fidelity" to Jesus. Our Redeemer went very 
far in His suffering for us in choosing to bear the pain 
of betrayal by a trusted and intimate friend, and that on 
account of money, and no very large sum at that. Jesus 
did not easily murmur at affliction. But of the treason of 
Judas He complained, not only to the traitor himself, but 
also to the other Apostles. 

It would seem as if nothing that man in his malice can 
do shall force Jesus from His undeviating course of pa- 
tience with sinners. Why did He not expel Judas on the 
spot? The Jews easily expelled transgressors from their 
synagogues; and here is the worst criminal of all history 
intruding himself disguised among the chosen members 
of Christ's flock, and in league with the very wolves 
ravening outside the fold. Yet Jesus bore even with Judas 
at the Last Supper and strived again and again to save 
him even to the end. 

Every friend of our Redeemer feels like saying: If 
Judas sells Jesus I will buy Him. I will sell myself into 
slavery for Him. I know His worth, as He has shown 
that He knows mine. "He loved me and delivered Him- 
self for me" (Gal. ii. 20), and I will give all that I have 
for Him and all that I am. He shall be mine at the ex- 
pense of my every joy, or rather my only joy is in suffer- 
ing servitude for His sake, as He did for mine. 



Chapter II. 

Why Jesus Began His Passion with the Agony in the 

Garden. 

When Jesus had said these things, He went forth with His 
disciples, according to His custom, over the brook Cedron, to 
the Mount of Olives, to a farm which is called Gethsemani, 
where there was a Garden, into which He entered with His dis- 
ciples (Matt. xxvi. 30-36; Mark xiv. 26-32; Luke xxii. 39; 
John xviii. 1). 

Our Savior's purpose in going to the Garden of Olives 
was twofold. He would spend His last moments of free- 
dom in treating again and finally with His Father about 
our salvation, and He would facilitate His arrest; He 
knew that it was there that Judas would seek Him to 
deliver Him up. 

It was a place apart. There He could for a while be 
secure from interruption in His sad but intensely desired 
communication with His Father, receive His last instruc- 
tions, and renew His compact for our redemption. He 
would thus fully realize what was meant by the great 
task before Him, and at a spot within a few paces of 
where He was actually to begin it. 

It was His purpose, also, to bear the brunt of His 
sufferings in His interior spirit; for it is the soul's cross 
that cuts the deepest. Jesus would generously assume 
our inward miseries to the uttermost degree, as the 
prophet had said of Him : "He hath borne our griefs and 
carried our sorrows" (Isaias liii. 4). Thus it was in the 
Garden that Jesus formed and fitted His mind to the 



The Beginning of the Passion, 23 

spiritual atonement for us, as afterwards He fitted His 
body to the outward torment of the cross on Calvary. He 
willed that a perfect knowledge of our wickedness, an 
absorbed consideration of our malice, and a deliberate 
acceptance of every penalty of our sins, should go before 
His outward suffering for us. This renewal of all His 
previous intention precedes the final act of redemption. 

In the Garden Jesus willed to see more clearly than 
ever before how much His Father loved us and how un- 
gratefully we had treated Him. His sorrow for us was 
thereby made an offering yet more worthy, not only of 
His perfect human sympathy, but even of His divine com- 
passion ; so that "The charity of God and the patience of 
Christ ,, (II. Thess. iii. 5) are made equal in the mind 
of Jesus at Gethsemani. 

Thus it was in the Garden of Olives that Jesus did 
more than die for us To offer up His life would seem 
enough; but it was not so to Him. A generous nature 
would perhaps die for a good man, says St. Paul (Rom. 
v. 7), taking on himself a friend's unjust punishment. 
But Jesus intervened between me, His bitter enemy, and 
a most just sentence against me, assuming Himself the 
penalty due a bad man and an enemy of His Father — a 
charity truly divine; and this He did for all sinners on 
Calvary. But in the Garden He did more. He there 
assumed, as far as perfect innocence could, not only the 
sinner's doom, but also the sinner's interior sense of guilt, 
remorse, abandonment, and damnation; and then the 
deepest contrition possible even to a God-Man. This He 
offered for the crimes of all our sinful race. 

Another reason for the agony in the Garden is that 
Jesus so loved to suffer for us, that He determined to 



24 The Agony in the Garden. 

undergo His pains by anticipation, deliberately forecast- 
ing them in His mind and enduring them beforehand. 
Here was the fulfilment of His desire to give us a sur- 
plus of merit and His Father a superfluity of recompense. 
This He had indeed chosen to do, as we have seen, from 
the beginning of His life on earth ; but now He would re- 
sume all His foreknowledge of His passion into one hour 
of concentrated bitterness. Such was His fulness of sym- 
pathy for us. 

He knew well that when all was done He could not 
suffer in retrospect; His wounds after His resurrection 
will pour only torrents of joy into His soul. His memory 
of the passion is to be an eternal bliss to Him. There- 
fore He would suffer as much as possible in prospect. 

Nor did He view His approaching sufferings through 
the consoling medium of His certain resurrection. On 
the contrary, He viewed the triumph of His resurrection 
through the intolerable pains of His passion and death. 
Foreseeing them all most clearly, every coming torment 
of His body and soul was a present agony ; it was not to 
be alleviated by the certainty of a triumph which lay 
beyond. 

Again, in meditating on Jesus in the Garden, we must 
appreciate that here it was that He most closely identified 
Himself with us, and let us well remember, that not only 
did He take on Himself the sins of all men, but He bore 
our sins and was involved with us in the consequences of 
our guilt, making Himself personally responsible with 
His Father for our particular wickedness. This gives 
a much more personal character to His love for us as 
shown in the Garden. It was His most definite interior 
act of identification with each one of us. He is each 



The Beginning of the Passion, 25 

one's substitute in the Father's awful court: "Him 
(Christ) for us He (God) hath made sin, that we might 
be made the justice of God in Him" (II. Cor. v. 21) ; my 
own special sinfulness being herein considered by both 
Father and Son no less than the sinfulness of the whole 
race of Adam. Jesus is the Redeemer not only of all men 
in general but of each one in particular. "He would have 
done much less for me," says St. Ambrose, "had He not 
taken on Himself my feelings ; He took on Him my 
sorrow, that He might now give me joy." And He has 
thus earned of me the tribute of an intimately personal 
sympathy with the sorrows of His passion, and by a 
peculiarly sacred title. For Jesus is to be pitied by me not 
only because He suffers most unjustly, most intensely 
and for the race to which I belong, but much more be- 
cause He suffers my pains, in my stead. 

In all religion nothing is more necessary than to ap- 
preciate that Jesus has so loved us, each and all, as to offer 
Himself m our stead to save us — that He does actually 
stand for us, that He ardently desires and willingly 
chooses to be our proxy, personally taking our place; 
and that the offended Father accepts Him as such. To 
realize this is, we repeat, the most necessary thing in all 
life — and the most difficult. It is the one thing gained 
best by meditating on the Agony in the Garden, showing 
as it does how the Father accepts and appoints Jesus as 
my victim, and how He in turn most willingly takes my 
place under the anger of God. If I in turn accept Him 
and appoint Him as my Savior with a heart full of love, 
He presently strikes me sorrowful with His own sorrow 
for my sins, and this He does by the infusion of His Holy 
Spirit. The grace of repentance is thus the work of the 



26 The Agony in the Garden. 

Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, instilling into my 
soul the fruits of the passion of Christ. Therefore the 
study of Jesus in the Garden is 'The grace of our Lord 
Jesus Christ, and the charity of God, and the communi- 
cation of the Holy Ghost" (II. Cor. xiii. 13). 

Another very appropriate thought is this. Entering 
upon the consideration of our Redeemer's passion, we 
are struck with the excess of His sufferings, knowing 
as we do that His least offering of sorrow for us was 
enough to save us. But let us remember that if "Much 
less of suffering was sufficient for saving us, yet what 
was sufficient for our salvation was not sufficient for His 
love," as says Father Thomas of Jesus. And that devout 
author adds that all the amazing excess of Christ's love 
is not enough to hinder men from continuing to insult 
Him by their sins. 

Let it not be so with us. For consider that the pur- 
pose of Christ is not simply to stop sin, but to win the 
sinner to love God. What better plan for this than suffer- 
ing in his stead ? If I can be moved from aversion of, to 
love for, God by any means at all, it is by the knowl- 
edge that the very one whom I have injured has so deeply 
loved me as to suffer Himself the penalty of my offence 
in all its rigor. Every spark of manhood's nobility, every 
least capacity for gratitude, all the better traits of my 
nature are at once deeply affected. With this the grace 
of God acts, and I begin to detest my sins and to love 
my Redeemer with all sincerity. 



Chapter III. 

"Sorrowful Unto Death!' 

And He said to His disciples : Sit you here until I go yonder 
and pray. And He taketh Peter and James and John with Him, 
and He began to fear and to be heavy, to grow sorrowful and to 
be sad. And He saith to them : My soul is sorrowful even unto 
death; stay you here and watch with Me. And going a little 
further He was withdrawn away from them a stone's cast (Matt, 
xxvi. 36-38; Mark xiv. 32-34). 

Jesus, the only begotten Son of God, in becoming our 
Redeemer clothed Himself with our humanity, making it 
His own nature. And this was not assumed as if it were 
a disguise, in order that He might save us by being re- 
puted one of our fallen race; no, much more than that, 
essentially more. He also clothed Himself by sympathy 
with our consciousness of guilt, our feelings of shame, 
our tendency to despair. He was our substitute not only 
in the outward but in the inward misery of sin, and, thank 
God, in the contrition for sin. The degree of this sorrow 
He describes by the terrible word, death: "My soul is 
sorrowful even unto death." 

God sent "His own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh/' 
says St. Paul (Rom. viii. 3) ; yea, and also in the likeness 
of a sinful soul. The sinful flesh of man hails his sal- 
vation in the suffering flesh of Christ, a sin-offering on 
the cross for both our bodies and souls. But the sinful 
spirit of man adores its peculiar atonement in the agony 



28 The Agoiiy in the Garden. 

of the spirit of Christ in the Garden: "My soul is sor- 
rowful even unto death." 

Death! What word is so dreadful; what sorrow is 
like sorrow on account of death at and after the loss of 
a loved one ? What terror equal to the dread of death in 
a sinner's soul — nay, often in a just man's soul? On this 
account, and to ward off from us a sinful death, "Christ," 
says St. Chrysostom, "by His agony enabled His faithful 
ones not to fear death, but patiently and even joyfully to 
meet it from their hope in the resurrection, saying with 
Osee and St. Paul, as triumphing over death, 'Death is 
swallowed up in victory' (I. Cor. xv. 55)." 

And this victory over the pain of death is won by 
Jesus making our sins His own, and mourning for them 
with a deathly grief; "for the wages of sin is death" 
(Rom. vi. 23). "The sorrows of death have compassed 
me, and the perils of hell have found me" (Ps. cxiv. 3). 
Thus spoke our Redeemer by the Psalmist, as He fore- 
saw Himself mourning over our sinfulness, especially our 
sinful death. 

Everything we know of Him shows that Jesus was 
one of those affectionate natures called sympathetic, being 
extremely sensitive to the distress of others ; this was one 
of His human perfections. Jesus was easily moved to 
tears. He wept over Jerusalem even as He launched 
against her His Father's anathema. He wept at the 
grave of Lazarus, though He knew that He was imme- 
diately to embrace him a living man; He wept because 
He saw Mary and Martha weeping. How much rather 
would He be sorrowful unto tears of deathly bitterness, 
when He knew that multitudes of men would laugh at 
their sins who ought to weep tears of blood. 



" Sorrowful Unto Death" 29 

Jesus prizes naturally this trait in us — a readiness of 
tears at the distress of others. He had said: "Blessed 
are they that mourn" (Math. v. 5). And foremost among 
mourners our Redeemer places Himself, whose sorrow 
is solely sympathetic and for the sake of others. And 
His favorite mourners are those who know and see and 
lament, as He did, what is the only "evil and bitter thing" 
of life, forsaking God by sin (Jer. ii. 19). How shall 
these mourners for their brethren be comforted, but as 
Jesus was, by knowing that the more they mourn over 
other men's sinfulness, the more truly are they God's chil- 
dren, brethren and imitators of God's only begotten Son ; 
and that their painful efforts to save souls are never 
exerted in vain. 

If all mourned over sin as they do over death, then 
would they be like Jesus, and sin would vanish from 
among men. All who enjoy life must die, all who are 
happy in one another's company must be sorrowfully 
parted, and all who enjoy the pleasures of this world must 
at last be torn away from them ; all must die and all must 
therefore mourn. But as all death comes from sin, so 
does sin generate every kind of death. All death-dealing 
sorrow comes from sin, and therefore all life-giving sor- 
row comes from contrition for sin, for contrition is 
mourning for sin in company with Jesus sorrowful unto 
death for our life's sake. Sin is the fountain head of the 
bitter waters of our life; for every pain is born of the 
guilt of sin. 

Here then is my comfort, the company of Jesus in my 
mourning. He mourns for exactly the same cause as 
I do in my contrition, for He has made my sins His own. 
The company of the Son of God in my sorrow gives me 



30 The Agony in the Garden. 

mighty courage to approach the divine throne craving 
for pardon — courage even in the face of approaching 
death. But let me ask myself: Will it ever happen me 
to suffer acute sorrow for other people's sins? When 
shall I begin "to fear and to be heavy" because my neigh- 
bor is in danger of damnation? 

You will perhaps object that the sins Jesus mourned 
for were not His own, and hence could not be the cause 
of such pam to Him ; sin is guilt and guilt He has not the 
least. But the answer is plain. Guilt Jesus has none; 
but if sin be guilt it is much besides ; it is misfortune and 
that the most direful ; deadly peril here, deadly woe here- 
after. And, oh ! it is shame, self-loathing of the most 
intolerable kind, if not immediately, then finally, in the 
career of a sinner. So that sin is both guilt and suffering, 
and those who are associated with the sinner may share 
his suffering while exempt from his guilt, may share it 
and must, if they love him. Among all those partners of 
the sinner's woe our Redeemer stands first; nay, He in- 
spires all others who share sinners' misery, gives them 
their motives as well as offers Himself as their model. 
As sinners are brazen and defiant, Jesus hangs His head 
and is ashamed; as they find in sin their dearest joy, so 
He is sorrowful "even unto death" for them. Our part 
is to appropriate His sorrow for our own sins, and then 
beg a share of it for the sins of others. 

The Psalmist says to God : 'Turn away Thy face from 
my sins" (Ps. 1. n), a prayer for the divine forgetful- 
ness. If this turning away were done by the Father in 
disgust and in anger, and on account of His injured 
rights, then hell had come to me ; His turning away would 
be the pain of loss. Now such a pain was what Jesus 



"Sorrowful Unto Death" 31 

suffered as far as it could be done by sympathy. Do you 
think that sympathetic suffering is less dreadful than 
properly personal suffering ? Take two close friends, one 
a man of fine, and the other of gross, nature. The man 
of clay suffers the actual wound and is indeed miserable ; 
the man of love only suffers by sympathy, and yet suffers 
the more acutely of the two. We often see this in a 
coarse man, sick and miserable, tended by a fine-natured 
wife more sick and miserable by sympathy. So with 
Jesus and me; He is my nobly constructed attendant in 
my downfall. He is far worse off on account of my guilt 
than I, even if I were in the deepest hell. Yet in the re- 
mote and now inaccessible part of His soul His consola- 
tion is laid up, that this, His sorrowful sympathy suffered 
by a motive of love, will yet be my motive of repentance. 



Chapter IV. 
The Contrition of Jesus. 

And He began to fear and to be heavy, to grow sorrowful and 

to be sad. And He said to them : My soul is sorrowful even 
unto death. And kneeling down He fell flat on the ground upon 
His face, and He said: Abba, Father, all things are possible to 
Thee; remove this chalice from Me (Matt. xxvi. 37-39; Mark 
xiv. 33-36; Luke xxii. 42). 

We behold Jesus entering on His final struggle quite 
forgetful of all else but His chosen task of redeeming 
us from sin and hell. He is full of reverential love for 
His adorable Father, full of sympathetic love for us as 
His well-loved brothers, having a sense of identity with 
us more real than ever before. And as sorrowful as 
death itself is His soul on our account ; so thin whole be- 
ginning of His passion might well be rightly called His 
sorrow or contrition in the Garden. 

And our Redeemer's agony in the Garden is also called 
His prayer. One of the secrets of His wisdom is how 
to turn sorrow into prayer. Study Jesus and your most 
intense pain will turn into a prayer of whole-hearted res- 
ignation to the divine will. This is especially true if you 
are under strain of such mental agony as comes from the 
misery of false friends, or sudden disgrace, or tendency 
to despair. Therefore, as Jesus begins to be sorrowful, 
He begins to pray. 

"And He said: Abba, Father" — a term of endear- 
ment added to the tender name of Father — dearest Father 
— "all things are possible to Thee; remove this chalice 



The Contrition of Jesus, 33 

from Me." How heart-rendering a plea fo v r pity is this 
offered to our common Father by the "firstborn among 
many brethren" (Rom. viii. 29). 

How well does Jesus teach us how to begin to pray. 
Long ago He had said : "When you pray say thus : Our 
Father" (Matt. vi. 9). No word that God hears opens 
His heart to us like that — Our Father, Abba, Father, be- 
loved Father ! He responds instantly, for Fie says : "How- 
ever wayward my child may be, he has not forgotten that 
I am his Father; he has forgotten to be a good son, but 
still remembers that I am a good Father." 

And now Jesus, in the Garden, opening wide His soul 
and drawing every one into its all embracing charity, for 
us and in our stead, says : "Dearest Father, I have sinned 
before heaven and against Thee" (Luke xv. 21). I am 
sincerely penitent; grant me Thy merciful pardon. 

But his Father did not answer; or rather Fie con- 
strained His Son to earn, by a terrible delay and a fear- 
ful ordeal, a more generous response. For as Jesus 
prayed, heaven remained shut to Him as to a lost soul, 
dark and silent. O, worse; infinitely worse. For all at 
once hell was opened against Jesus. Then was fulfilled 
the prophetical word: "I am come into the depth of the 
sea, and a tempest has overwhelmed me" (Ps. Ixviii. 3). 
A whole ocean of horror poured into His soul from the 
caverns of despair. Innumerable demons were turned 
loose upon Him, to taunt Him, to insult Him, to maltreat 
Him in His innermost soul. 

"He fell fiat on the ground" — as if suddenly pierced 
with His enemies' arrows. It must have been a deadly 
stroke that could instantly lay low so strong a champion. 
But our champion was now in the thick of His foes, His 



34 The Agony in the Garden. 

foes and ours, and entirely abandoned to their assaults. 
It was as if they had been lying in wait for Him, and 
now had suddenly rushed upon Him and threw Him down 
and trampled on Him. "I am a worm and no man" (Ps. 
xxi. 7), He had said of Himself in prophecy. Under 
men's feet is my place, flat on the earth which is the home 
of the race I love. And under not only men's but demons' 
feet was He instantly writhing, for He is experiencing 
the "sorrows of hell" (Ps. xvii. 6). 

You will ask the reason for His suffering this tor- 
ment. A glance at your own soul will help you to an- 
swer. What are the motives for your contrition when 
preparing to confess your sins ? ''The loss of heaven and 
the pains of hell; but most of all because they offend 
Thee, my God, who art all good and deserving of all my 
love"; such is our act of sorrow. These are identically 
the motives of Jesus. The Agony in the Garden is our 
Redeemer's act of contrition, it is the great ocean of con- 
trition from which we fill our little souls to make an offer- 
ing to our offended Father in order to obtain forgiveness. 
And He feels the "pains of hell" in our stead, so that we 
may never feel them in eternity. 

No one ever suffered the fear of hell as Jesus did that 
night. This horror was made perfect, as we have seen, 
by the apparition of many demons. "Many fat bulls have 
beseiged me; they have opened their mouths against me, 
as a lion ravening and roaring. . . . Many dogs 
have encompassed me" (Ps. xxi. 13-17). Christ, ac- 
cording to several commentators, saw devils in various 
terrible shapes surrounding Him and mocking Him as 
if He were a wicked and impenitent man fated to be 
damned. They insulted Him and defied Him, boasting 



The Contrition of Jesus. 35 

that at His crucifixion they and not He would triumph, 
that they would win men's allegiance better than He; 
that He was a failure, living and dying. 

It was for our Redeemer's humiliation (and this 
means for our redemption) that the demons were allowed 
this freedom of profaning the sanctuary of His interior 
consciousness — and as players use a stage, so did they 
use His secret soul to mimic the foulest deeds of lust and 
drunkenness and murder, of sacrilege and blasphemy. 
They did all this without hindrance and with perfect 
realism of persons and scenes and words and even 
thoughts. Every foul wretch whom they paraded before 
His affrighted spirit was a man or woman whom He in- 
tensely loved, and whom, as they taunted Him, He had 
failed to save, or was to fail in the future. Can any one 
fancy a severer strain upon loyal affection ? Could there 
be ministers of terror more capable than the devils ? Could 
perfect chastity and obedience and brotherly love suffer 
greater woes than Jesus in the Garden ? 

Many other fierce enemies were afterwards to do their 
worst upon Him, and presently they would begin : Judas, 
Caiaphas, Pilate, Herod, the mob of the Jews, and then 
the cruel soldiers. But all these had their masters both 
in the depth and ingenuity of malice, namely the demons 
of hell. These are the primeval sinners, proficients and 
preceptors among all the wicked. The pity of it is that 
they said true things to the writhing spirit of Jesus, and 
showed Him things all too true. They stabbed wounds 
into His sensitive nature, the like of which no mere mor- 
tal hater of God was capable of inflicting, and they were 
armed with the certain facts of our sins and our im- 
penitence. 



36 The Agony in the Garden. 

Why not reproach Him with the sins of His brother 
men, and then fiercely call on Him to disown forever the 
ignoble, sensual, rebellious, ungrateful race, and fling it 
off ? Can they not prove that men out-vie the wickedness 
of the dark pit itself? Yet He never falters in His love 
for us. But our minds are baffled in striving to imagine 
how dreadfully He suffers by being faithful to us. He lets 
these, our arch-enemies, do their worst upon Him — oh, 
how much that means, the devil's worst. And He stands 
His ground for us. It is with this part of His agony in 
view that the prophet speaks for Him : "My soul is filled 
with evils; and My life hath drawn nigh to hell. I am 
counted among them that go down to the pit. . . . 
They have laid Me in the lower pit; in the dark places, 
and in the shadow of death. Thy wrath is strong over 
Me" (Ps. Ixxxvii. 4-8). 

The heart of Jesus, made as it was for the joys of 
heaven as no other heart could be, endures for our sakes 
the pains of hell. The most loathsome deeds were com- 
mitted within His all-holy spirit in living pictures, and 
because they were done by souls He truly loved, and with 
whom He was inseparably associated as their brother and 
their Redeemer, these actions became to Him, in all their 
shamefulness, as it were, His own. At every turn and 
variation of this awful mental atonement, and as each 
malignant, or sensual, or murderous, or sacrilegious 
wretch was shown Him in full career of vice, the demons 
yelled to His amazed and shrinking soul : "Ecce Homo ! 
Behold the man you love!" He seemed to be trampled 
on by the endless procession of the damned on their way 
to eternal loss ; and as He abhorred them and loathed and 
feared them, He yet loved them tenderly. 



The Contrition of Jesus. 37 

Jews and Gentiles, Christians and pagans were there; 
the heathen races whom God loved so well, and who cast 
Him off for the sake of devil-worship; all their myriads 
marshaled by their demons burst into the Savior's inner 
sanctuary: "O God, the heathens are come into Thine 
inheritance; thjey have defiled Thy holy temple'' (Ps. 
lxxviii. 1). 

"Thus," says St. Leo, "He was despised in our degra- 
dation, saddened with our sadness, crucified with our 
pain." And yet the most powerful cause of His agony 
was His sensitiveness to His Father's honor, thus out- 
raged by His children's wickedness. The soul of Christ 
saw our sins in God. His shame and grief were equal to 
the injury done the sovereign majesty of God ; the ingrati- 
tude, callousness, relapse, contempt of divine warnings, 
indifference to the tender affection of His Father for us. 
He loved His Father as the infinite goodness. He loved 
us sinners, each one of us, as He loved Himself. He was 
jealous of His Father's sovereign rights; He was inde- 
scribably sensitive to our eternal interests. Between these 
two loves, each supreme in His soul, and each warring 
fiercely against the other, Jesus, as between the upper and 
nether millstones, was ground to powder. 

Nothing that Jews or Romans were afterward to in- 
flict on Him could equal His present pain ; love was His 
fiercest, crudest executioner. No created mind ever saw 
so clearly as Jesus what an evil and bitter thing it is to 
turn one's back on our heavenly Father; His mind was 
perfect and His knowledge of sin was perfect. No heart 
was ever so saddened by the sinner's fate as was Jesus' 
for every sinner ; because, besides being so close a friend, 
so affectionate and disinterested a friend of the sinner, 



38 The Agony in the Garden. 

He was the only-begotten Son of that God whom the 
sinner had so dreadfully injured. 

With many of us contrition for sin is little better than 
an ordinary emotion, a passing emotion at that. And this 
is too often the case even in preparing to reckon with 
the Holy Spirit in the sacrament of penance. How differ- 
ent is Jesus' estimate of our sins, how different His sor- 
row for them. Of His soul's sorrow the prophet says : 
"Great as the sea is thy destruction, O thou daughter of 
Sion" (Lam. Jer. ii. 13). Let us appreciate that only 
after some such sorrow does an angelic comfort visit our 
spirits from on high — a sorrow taking in all our sins and 
vividly realizing every shade of their malice, a sorrow 
for God's sake and endeavoring to see our sins as God 
does — the ugly malice of our ingratitude, the persistent 
malice of evil habit, the ever-recurring malice of relapse, 
and always and everywhere the essential malice of rebel- 
lion against the divine majesty. 



Chapter V. 
Father, Remove this Chalice from Me, 

And He prayed, that if it might be, the hour might pass from 
Him. And He said : Abba, Father, all things are possible to 
Thee; remove this chalice from Me; but not what I will, but 
what Thou wilt (Mark xiv. 35, 36). 

This word, chalice, or cup, Jesus had used more than 
once before. When the mother of the sons of Zebedee 
had spoken to Him of His Kingdom, and begged high 
places for her sons, He immediately thought of His pas- 
sion, of this very royal feast of tears and sorrow. He 
said to them : "You know not what you ask. Can you 
drink the chalice that I shall drink ?" (Matt. xx. 22). 

His time had come; His bitter draught was at His 
lips and entering His soul. The vision of bad men and 
worse devils was thrust into His spirit like a poisonous 
drink forced down His throat, and hence the words cup 
and drink were chosen by Him to describe His agony. 

"Let this chalice pass from Me." As if to say, I have 
tasted the bitterness of sin. One drop of such agony 
poisons My very soul. Let the rest pass away from Me, 
so that, in the awful bodily sufferings awaiting Me, My 
soul may be, if not serene and peaceful, yet not totally 
despondent.* 

*This is an interpretation which we venture to think reasonable. A 
commoner one is that our Lord prayed to be exempted from this entire 
shameful ordeal. 



40 The Agony in the Garden. 

The smallest particle of poisoned blood on the tip of 
a lancet is fatal to the surgeon's patient; the whole 
system is immediately infected, and by no more than the 
least touch of the sharp blade. One taste of our sinful- 
ness poisoned the Redeemer's very soul — why be forced 
to drink the entire cup to the dregs ? 

Is not this enough ? "O, my Father, let this cup pass 
away from Me." But His Father was inexorable, and held 
our Redeemer to His original purpose of superabundant 
satisfaction. 

It all poured into Him like a burning stream of poison 
— these reproaches of the demons, their taunts about His 
failure to win and save, the awful pictures of the long 
ages of idolatry. His gloomy forecast of the multitudes 
who would know Flim only to reject Him to the end of 
time — He drank one taste of it, and it stifled Him. It 
was enough ; why should not His Father be content with 
this? 

It was, of course, His human nature that made this 
piteous plea for relief. As to His divine nature, how far 
distant it must have seemed, that He should cry out: 
"Father, remove this chalice from Me." Yet this very 
weakness was in accordance with His plan for His whole 
passion, and it will be seen to the end that He shows 
Himself so entirely a man as to seem almost to forget 
that He is God. The farther from God the nearer to the 
sinner, was His motto. 

Yet there is a mystery here. We cannot understand 
how Jesus could yield to fear, for this seems a defect, 
especially in one so closely joined to God. But fear is 
no defect in a man, if it be founded on truth, controlled 
by reason, and subordinated to the will of God. Jesus 



Remove this Chalice from Me. 41 

was a man, and His fear was caused by contemplating 
the true fate of multitudes of His brethren. And was 
it unreasonable in Him to wish to stop half way to hell, 
and to beg His Father to call off the demons and the 
damned? No risk of our salvation was run by this en- 
treaty, even if it had been granted; and as it was not 
granted, He suffered the extreme penalty anyway, and 
that very willingly. But meanwhile it gives us the deep 
comfort of finding Jesus nearer to an equality with us, 
while it leaves Him only the more truly our Redeemer. 

More than human Jesus would not be in His passion, 
lest we should despair of imitating Him. And now He 
better elevates us to our highest point of fortitude in ad- 
versity, by His submission to the divine will after im- 
ploring relief in vain. In it all He shows how great the 
human heart can be when bearing the burden of others' 
guilt, informed with the noble motive of love of brethren, 
whether innocent or guilty. 

Therefore, His prayer, "O My Father, if it be possi- 
ble, let this chalice pass from Me/' did not spring from 
inconstancy of mind, nor from timidity; but from hu- 
manity. It arose from His desire to partake of our 
natural dread of extreme misery. He wished to be like 
us, that we might more readily wish to be like Him, it 
being certain that this, His natural reluctance, would 
be followed by entire obedience. Here is a moving ex- 
ample to our weakness. "Our Lord," says one of the 
Fathers, "trembled with our fear, that He might take on 
Himself our weakness, and robe our weakness with His 
strength." 

Nothing in our Redeemer's passion is more consoling 
than His shrinking from the ordeal of the Garden. He 



42 The Agony in the Garden. 

is more our model thus than if He were a mere stoic, 
bidding defiance to every grief. When not only all hu- 
man comfort is lacking, but heaven itself seems shut 
against me, then does His Agony in the Garden console 
me; especially when the torment comes from the remem- 
brance of past sins, and instinctively finds expression in 
a prayer that sounds like repining. Finally, if Jesus had 
not flinched, we should not have known so well how hard 
our sins beset Him. It is a terror to us that our malig- 
nant weakness was a terror to Him, even to Jesus. 



Chapter VI. 

Thy Will Be Done. 

He fell upon His face, praying, and saying: Abba, Father, 
all things are possible to Thee; remove this chalice from Me; 
but not what I will, but what Thou wilt. . . . Again he went 
the second time and prayed, saying the same words: O, My 
Father, if this chalice cannot pass away unless I drink it, Thy 
will be done. . . . He went away again, and prayed the third 
time, saying the same words. . . . And being in an agony He 
prayed the longer (Matt. xxvi. 39-44; Mark xiv. 36-39; Luke 
xxii. 41-43). 

Jesus had always implicitly preferred His Father's 
will to His own, and often expressly : "I am come down 
from heaven not to do My own will, but the will of Him 
that sent Me" (John vi. 37). At this supreme moment 
of treating with His Father about our salvation, He 
three times prayed for a release, or for a change in the 
penalties to be suffered. And each time He distinctly 
left the decision with His Father. A very conspicuous 
place is thus given to the virtue of obedience. Let the 
prayer of Jesus stand as our pattern. His submission to 
His Father's will is a striking example of loving con- 
formity. For He had only to insist and His Father would 
yield immediately. He thus teaches us that when dealing 
with even a complacent superior it is better to obey than 
to insist. 

"Not My will but Thine" ; and on the instant the Re- 
deemer saw, as it were, the very hand of His Father 



44 The Agony in the Garden. 

pressing the loathsome cup against His trembling lips. 
For the Father's will was to visit justice upon His Son 
that He might the more perfectly dispense mercy to His 
Son's brethren — to us. Our Redeemer thus, in effect, said : 
Let justice be done upon men, and upon all men, and to 
the full measure — but only through and by My suffer- 
ings; let mercy be granted to men, because justice has 
been visited on Me. Upon Me, justice first and favor 
afterwards; upon them, mercy first and last and all the 
time for My sake. Thus He suffers for God and for us, 
securing justice to God and pardon to us. This terrible 
compact of infinite love with infinite justice Jesus ratified 
by the exercise of obedience, which is here shown to be 
a high virtue indeed. 

His anxious soul emphasized this stern resolve by a 
three-fold repetition of His petition and of acceptance of 
its refusal, using "the self-same words." This agonized 
petition for a change in the original understanding (if the 
expression may be allowed) between Father and Son, 
together with the Son's thrice-offered submission, is our 
Redeemer's prayer in the Garden, distinctively, essentially 
so. And it was His last prayer there, for towards the 
end of the narrative we are told that "being in an agony 
He prayed the longer," ever and again uniting His pur- 
pose with His Father's, repeatedly opening the very 
depths of His saddened soul to the inpouring of His 
Father's purposes. Again and again His sorrow for our 
sins, and His determination to save us, forced Him to 
resume and continue the task of confronting the Sov- 
ereign Majesty with an adequate atonement, adequate not 
only to redeem us, but adequate to measure His love for 
us. 



Thy Will Be Done. 45 

"And being in an agony He prayed the longer." What 
a sorrow ! How sad that one's very prayers to heaven 
are one's agony. For Jesus to make a way to God for us 
by His prayers He was first to pass through the agonies of 
death and hell. Our Redeemer could not help going to 
His Father, for he loved us and must save us; yet, bur- 
dened with us, he could not reach Him except by way of 
this overflowing bitterness of atonement. 

Jesus' last prayer in the Garden is the strongest one 
He ever made, except that on the cross ; which, indeed, 
is the same as this : "Father, into Thy hands I commend 
My spirit." And this is a summary of all His prayers, 
and it should be the essence of all ours. May my last 
prayer, O God, be that of Thy agonizing Son, absolute 
abandonment to Thy holy will. And may it be efficacious 
for my own soul and the souls of all for whom I shall 
offer up my death. 

"And being in an agony He prayed the longer." Com- 
mentators say that the evangelist here uses the word 
agony to indicate a pain like that of those who are at 
the last struggle with death. And so Jesus had said at 
the beginning of His prayer: "My soul is sorrowful 
even unto death." My soul is smitten with a death 
wound ; and as the body of a man so struck pours out his 
heart's blood and dies, so My soul pours out prayers — 
prayers to the One who smote Me, My Father; prayers 
uttered in My death agony for those I love, My fellow- 
men. The word agony is surely most properly descrip- 
tive of the supreme pain of dying. Jesus endured that 
pain from the moment He entered the Garden till the 
end. So that the intensity of His fervor, as he prayed 
for us, was death-like. 



46 The Agony in the Garden. 

Some of us give up praying when called on to suffer 
agony. But our Lord's example is the reverse of this, 
and teaches that in affliction of body or soul we should 
constrain ourselves to pray. No prayer is so fervent as 
that of the agonizing, whether living or dying ; no prayer 
is so necessary, none so pleasing to God. And it is the 
"prayer of faith" (James v. 15) ; also of hope, for agony 
is darkness; one must pray in blind trust when all com- 
fort is removed, or, as in Jesus' case, worse than re- 
moved. It is a prayer of disinterested love, for such is 
the prayer of pure faith and blind hope, saying, I know 
nothing of God but through my sorrows, and yet I praise 
Him ; may His all-holy will be done. In such a soul the 
sense of God's sovereign goodness is stronger than the 
racking agony of pain, whether in mind or body. 



Chapter VII. 

Our Redeemer's Watchers. 

And He taketh with Him Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, 
James and John, and He began to grow sorrowful and to be sad, 
to fear and to be heavy. And He saith to them : My soul is 
sorrowful even unto death; stay you here and watch with Me. 
. . . And He cometh to His disciples and findeth them sleep- 
ing from sorrow. And He said to Peter : Simon, sleepest thou ? 
What f* Could you not watch one hour with Me ? Watch and 
pray that ye enter not into temptation. . . . And He cometh 
again, and findeth them asleep, for their eyes were heavy, and 
they knew not what to answer Him. . . . Then when He 
rose up from prayer He cometh to His disciples the third time, 
and saith to them : Sleep ye now and take your rest. The spirit 
indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak (Matt. xxvi. 36-45; Mark 
xiv. 33-4 1 ; Luke xxii. 45, 46). 

"Stay you here and watch/' Jesus said to Peter, 
James and John. O Jesus, what a privilege, to watch 
whilst Thou dost suffer. And how uneven the di- 
vision of the burden. Thou choosest to be sorrowful 
even unto death, and I am allotted only to stand guard. 
Thou choosest bitter agony for Thyself, and my only 
duty is to keep awake and be ready to listen to Thee and 
console Thee. Surely I will do my poor part. But they 
failed. The day will come when they will watch indeed, 
and arouse the whole world from slumber. But they are 

*One evangelist gives this admonition in the singular as addressed to 
Peter, and another in the plural; but what Jesus said to one He meant for 
all of them. 



48 The Agony in the Garden. 

as yet no better than types of that midway class of souls 
called the tepid, not bad enough to be traitors, not good 
enough to be friends. The tepid sleep from weariness 
and sadness, while nobler natures, after Jesus' pattern, 
are sleepless for the same reason. 

Sorrow weighted down the faculties of the Apostles 
and made them sleep. Sorrow sharpened the faculties of 
our Redeemer. After what He experienced that night we 
might suppose that He would never sleep again. And 
such was God's will; His next sleep was to be that of 
death and the grave. 

And the baser natures among men, those that are 
worse than tepid, watch from avarice, like Judas, and 
from hatred, like the chief priests. Judas was a model 
watcher ; and the wakefulness of the traitor is in contrast 
with the sleepiness of the three faithful ones. He did 
not wait to be approached by his Master's enemies; he 
"went to the chief priests." Avarice is more zealous than 
friendship and is full of enterprise. Its votaries frequent- 
ly open the way into unknown regions for even Chris- 
tian missionaries. Judas watched and bargained and got 
his money while the faithful Apostles listened drowsily 
to the most moving discourses of their Master, before 
leaving the supper-room. And now the good ones sleep 
while the bad one watches. Zeal for money, zeal for 
God, the whole world knows which of these watches 
best, labors hardest, and wins its prizes most surely. 

Watch with Me, He said. For I would have you to 
witness My sorrow and comfort Me in it. And, oh, I 
need your company; be ready when I call. A word from 
you, My beloved ones, will save Me, perhaps, from death, 
from which I am separated but by a hair's breadth, so 



Our Redeemer's Watchers, 49 

shaip is My pain of heart. Wait here while I go yonder 
and pray in the very agony of death. Angels I can have 
for the asking, but your company is sweeter to Me than 
theirs, for I am a man and not an angel. Especially now 
in My extremity I need human comfort. Watch and wait 
till I shall call you. May I not depend on you? But 
when He came to them He found them fast asleep. He 
had to wake them up. He could but reproach them : 
"What! Could you not watch one hour with me?" 

As if to say, The sentinels of the Roman garrison 
watch this night with sleepless vigilance. And you? — 
you are my sentinels, and as I posted you I said : "Stay 
you here and watch." If you had been Pilate's soldiers 
instead of My Apostles you would have been put to death 
for sleeping on guard. And doubtless Jesus would add 
that all the time they, slept Judas watched sleeplessly. 

Instead of consoling Him they but added another drop 
of bitterness to His cup. He chided them. And yet He 
excused them: "The spirit indeed is willing, but the 
flesh is weak." Jesus readily palliates and excuses. But 
He felt their fault deeply. He did not ask the comfort of 
angels, and yet one came to Him. He did beg the sym- 
pathy of men, and they were too slow of heart to so much 
as understand what He meant. 

His failure with His disciples teaches me not to rely 
upon human comfort even when I have every right to 
expect it. Just as His failure to obtain relief from His 
Father admonishes me, that even infinite goodness some- 
times rejects an agonized prayer for solace, exacting im- 
mediate, unreasoned, and yet most reasonable submis- 
sion, demanding a blind trust in a goodness not seen nor 
felt and only known by faith. He gave them, as was His 



50 The Agony in the Garden. 

custom, a lesson drawn from the circumstances of their 
position : "Watch and pray that ye enter not into temp- 
tation." That is to say : If even sympathy for My pain- 
ful watching will not make you watch, then let self-in- 
terest do so. Temptation wins mostly by surprise, and 
it will catch you in an unguarded moment. And, indeed, 
our Redeemer guarded them vigilantly whilst they 
watched drowsily for Him. 

To value sympathy is a trait of fine natures, who 
crave affection when in distress. But this involves a 
keen sensibility to unkindness, or even to forgetfulness of 
the offices of friendship, on the part of those deeply loved. 
The case is worse when one has a sacred right to con- 
solation on account of near kinship or great favors be- 
stowed. Jesus suffered an overfull share of this pain. 
He was denied the sympathy of those whose comfort 
was His only human solace. Later on He must sever 
Himself totally from them to save them from showing 
that they were scandalized in Him. 

And what He now suffered in this respect was but 
preliminary to further and greater pain of the same kind, 
betrayed by one Apostle, denied by another, and he the 
head of His Church; falsely accused, and finally con- 
demned and hounded to death by the priests whose office 
He so deeply reverenced; finally to be the victim of so 
rare a sin as Roman cowardice. The sleepiness of His 
friends had a real place in these His greater sorrows, pre- 
cisely because they were His friends, and the only ones 
at hand to console Him in His hour of doom. Always 
desirous of tokens of their affection, He was especially 
so now, when He was giving His very life for them. 

We may suppose that "Watch and pray, lest ye enter 



Our Redeemer's Watchers. 51 

into temptation," were His last words of warning. Alas ! 
if Peter had but heeded this warning. Jesus knew their 
frailty, and the awful events impending which would 
display it. His counsel to them now, as before in the 
supper-room, was self-distrust, caution, watchfulness and 
prayer. Peter's resource was vaunting his loyalty and 
boasting of his bravery, ending with a frantic blow with 
a sword — and a thrice repeated denial of His Apostleship. 
The sacred narrative tells us that: "They knew not 
what to answer Him." Poor men. They were puzzled; 
they did not know what to say or think, and they were 
worn out, and oppressed with sleepiness. Yet it would 
seem that even these most unsatisfactory interviews some- 
what relieved the mind of Jesus, since He sought them 
three different times during His Agony. Infinitely pref- 
erable, indeed, was the company of His poor sleepy 
disciples, wayward Peter and stupid James and John, to 
the company He left in seeking them — the damned with 
their wails of despair and the demons with their re- 
proaches. 



Chapter VIII. 
Jesus is Comforted by an Angel. 

"And there appeared to Him an angel from heaven comfort- 
ing Him" (Luke xxii. 43). 

While the angel's visit soothed our Redeemer, He 
was distressed, as we have seen, that a being of another 
race, rather than one of his own, should comfort Him 
in His Agony, which was human sorrow and not angelic. 

He was indeed King of the angels, being the ex- 
press "image of the invisible God, and the firstborn of 
every creature'' (Col. i. 15). Yet as a man He revered 
them as His Father's messengers. But they were not 
men, and He loved men incomparably more than angels. 
Men of all sorts and grades were His best beloved, as be- 
ing of His own proper family. When we speak of "the 
human family" we use the term figuratively to express the 
unity of our race. That was no figure of speech to Jesus, 
for our common nature was His own particular nature 
in an indescribable unity of existence with each of us, 
and of love. What an affectionate man feels for His own 
brothers and sisters our Redeemer felt for every man and 
woman that ever lived. Each one of us, good and bad, 
was His own blood-kinsman ; the whole race was literally 
His family, more so by far than the angels were. 

Many sinful generations had broken up this family 
of Jesus into most diverse races, divided more by hatred 
than even by language and customs. In Jesus all men 
and races yet remained one close brotherhood. He had 
come to heal all divisions among men forever, and men 



Jesus is Comforted by an Angel. 53 

not angels were to be His foremost instruments in this 
work of love. 

Of the new race His mother is the second Eve, and 
she is not an angel, though the Queen of angels; He is 
Himself our new Adam, in whom all that was lost by the 
first Adam is to be restored (I. Cor. xv. 22), a God- 
Man, not a God-angel. "To which of the angels did 
(His Father) say, Thou art My Son, this day have I be- 
gotten Thee?" (Heb. i. 5). 

In that hour, therefore, the highest angel could not 
vie with the meanest child of Adam as a comforter of 
Jesus. Never did He feel so much a man as when He 
began to sink deeper into man's wickedness and woes. 
Here, then, was a new sorrow disguised even in His com- 
fort. For not only did He crave comfort direct from 
His Father and yet must he content with an angel's in- 
stead, but next to His Father's, He craved sympathy 
from His own kind, His own flesh and blood, His chosen 
men, and an utterly different comforter was given Him — 
the while that the Apostles slept and waited, their minds 
all mystified, even their hearts incredulous. Yet, not- 
withstanding all this, the angel's coming was a gracious 
boon from His Father. 

For now there suddenly burst upon Jesus a vision 
of blessed peace. The devils are gone; hell has again 
swallowed up, if only for a breathing spell, the devils 
and the damned, who have been tormenting Him. Oh, 
what a difference — this gentle being, and just as strong 
as gentle, full of brightness and affection, all beaming 
with hope and peace, reverence and sympathy. How 
sweet a visit, how welcome a comfort. Hope rose in 
His heart, though we hardly dare say joy. How greedily 



54 The Agony in the Garden. 

the Lord drank in the angel's eager words, soothing the 
burnt path of the fiery draught He had just drunk — 
words from heaven direct. If we would speak of perfect 
kindness, we call it angelic; or perfect peace, we call it 
heavenly. Thus heaven vouchsafed to Jesus an interval, 
however brief, of its own gentle kindness, deep peace 
and rest. 

And this comforts us, too ; for at last the Lord is as- 
sisted by a creature's sympathy. And although he be a 
sinless angel and of another race, an unredeemed because 
a sinless race, yet he is not far removed from us, for we 
are made "a little less than the angels" (Ps. viii. 6). 
In honoring Jesus the angel honors us, for Jesus is of our 
race, Jesus to whom this mighty spirit bows down his 
face and pays his unspeakably full allegiance; an angel, 
whose proud boast it is to keep watch and ward over men 
and whose purest joy is their repentance (Luke xv. 10). 

It is true that the angel's office was not to draw out 
the poisoned arrow of our sinfulness, whose iron, thrust 
even into His soul, was yet to fester there with awful 
horror and dread and disgust. That agony of soul was 
to leave Him only when His Father drew it forth with 
His life. But the angel could say things of the Father's 
love which would for a moment deaden our Redeemer's 
pain, and he could pour in the balm of kind words of pity 
and of hope. He must have had a mighty power of pity, 
this angel, to undertake such a task and to succeed in it — 
a resistless eloquence of compassion was this angel's pe- 
culiar endowment among his fellow-angels. 

Did the angel appear to our Lord as a man? It is 
thought so, since it was human comfort the Lord craved 
most next to that of His Father, which was denied Him 



Jesus is Comforted by an Angel, 55 

first and last. What did the angel say to Him ? Doubtless 
he bade Him drink deeper of the bitterness of our sins; 
and he praised his courage ; he "strengthened Him/' as 
one translation reads. The angel must have exalted to 
our Lord His office of Redeemer. And did he remind 
Him of His coming resurrection? We can hardly think 
otherwise, for to think of that was not lessening merit 
while it strengthened courage; it would not stop Judas, 
nor relieve the dread pressure of our sins upon His soul. 
And the heavenly messenger doubtless praised the 
noble virtue of suffering for one's beloved, the heroism 
of dying to save an enemy. He exalted the beauty of for- 
titude in so glorious a cause as men's eternal welfare. Our 
Redeemer received at least a passing comfort from this 
most affectionate and reverent herald of celestial peace. 
He merited our eternal thanks for comforting our cham- 
pion in the direst moment of His awful conflict. 

But yet, what permanent comfort could an angel be 
to one who, having been familiar habitually with the very 
Father of all consolation, now feels Him withdrawn and 
departed from Him ! 

How could the mind of Christ be illumined by one who 
had been himself a lowly pupil of the Son of God in 
heaven? How could Jesus, Himself the strength of earth 
and heaven, be stayed up in His utter prostration of 
spirit by any created nature except for a short moment 
of rest? What could any angel say that Christ did not 
already know better a thousand times ? 

He knew that the only comfort possible for Him was 
within the gift of men alone, that is to say, their willing- 
ness to suffer with Him, But when the angel was done, 
and before he vanished away, our saddened Redeemer 



56 The Agony in the Garden. 

thanked Him lovingly, very grateful for His affectionate 
ministry. 

Meanwhile, how deep the awe of the angel. How 
profound from that hour his reverence for our human 
nature, which, in his divine Master, he saw forming one 
person with the deity itself, and which he knew r , even in 
the lowest grade of humanity, was being ransomed at such 
a price. There is much joy in an angel's office of helping 
sinners to repentance. What joy, then, is this angel's, 
since the foremost penitent of the whole race is here, the 
one whose contrition is the fountain source of every peni- 
tent's saving grief ; and it is his unique privilege to attend 
Him and console Him. 

It would seem that the angel's visit to Jesus took place 
only when his agony was very near its close; it was the 
last incident of his stay in the Garden immediately pre- 
ceding his final prayer of agony. Except the kindly 
greeting of the Jewish women during the way of the 
cross, and the unrecorded words of compassion of His 
mother beneath the cross, Jesus was now to hear no other 
syllable of pity till all the heavenly host should greet His 
soul liberated by death. When His enemies spit in His 
face and mocked and struck Him and blasphemed Him, 
there was no angel sent to strengthen Him ; nor all the 
time men were wrangling over Him, Pilate, Caiaphas, 
Herod, the mob ; nor when they nailed Him to the cross ; 
nor when He felt the throes of death coming upon His 
mortal frame amid the desolation of His soul; He had 
barred out all help from heaven. Standing before Judas 
and his company, reaching out His hands for their 
gyves, we shall hear Him distinctly renounce the aid of 
the uncounted legions of His Father's heavenly army. 



Chapter IX. 

Jesus Sweats Blood. 

And His sweat became as drops of blood trickling down upon 
the ground (Luke xxii. 44). 

It must have been at or near the end of our Lord's 
agony that He sweat blood, or rather became aware that 
the drops that fell from His face to the ground were the 
life drops of His Sacred Heart. He thus shed the first 
blood of His passion in an olive garden. The olive tree is 
an emblem of peace ; its roots were that night watered by 
the bloody sweat of the Prince of Peace (Isaias ix. 6). 

This was, indeed, a prodigy, but one as much due, 
perhaps, to natural grief as to miraculous interposition; 
for the like of it is well known to physicians, who tell us 
of intense bereavement or other nervous strain turning 
a man's hair gray in a single night, and it is further 
possible that this oozing of His blood from his over- 
charged veins may have saved our Redeemer from death 
then and there. 

What were His feelings when, as he wiped His 
dripping face, He felt the strange thickness of His sweat, 
and then getting the moonbeams upon His hand, He 
saw that He was sweating blood? Instantly He must 
have offered it to His Father, raising His eyes to heaven 
and saying: Father, behold the witness of My entire 
obedience to thee, and of My devoted love for Thy 
children and My brethren. 



58 The Agony in the Garden, 

Nor did His bloody sweat greatly surprise Him. It 
was the proper bodily symptom of His intense and inner 
pain. It did not shock Him either ; it was the first blood- 
shed of our redemption, the earnest money of our ransom. 
His was a generous heart, and the more precious the 
gift He could give, the better He was pleased. He was 
glad that before He w r as struck by hand of man He bled 
for man's salvation, struck by the hand of God. His 
Father claimed the privilege of first shedding the blood 
of His Son's passion, as at the Circumcision the same 
Father had claimed the first fruits of His son's life in the 
cutting of His infant flesh. And Jesus was also pleased 
that He could bleed for us while yet wholly free. At the 
very end He will bleed for us again after His soul has 
regained its freedom, after His release by death from the 
torment of the cross ; the soldier's spear will cut open and 
drain dry His heart all still in death. 

Therefore, when He saw that He had begun to shed 
His blood He was glad. My Father cannot resist My 
blood, He must have said. And the self-same words will 
come from His heart at every subsequent blood shedding : 
Father, thou canst not resist Thy Son's blood. 

What better token of sincerity than blood? The 
Apostle reproaches his boastful converts that they had 
not yet resisted unto blood (Heb. xii. 4). Blood speaks 
louder than words, whether in exhortation to brethren or 
petition to their angry Father for their pardon. 

But let us revert to the cause of this heart-witness, 
namely, His grief and shame for our sins. What happens 
to you when you are caught in a shameful deed? The 
blood rushes to your face. The very same happened to 
Jesus, when, on entering the Garden, He found Himself 



Jesus Sweats Blood. 59 

suddenly accused of our shameful sins and unable to 
deny them; only His blush of shame was so impetuous 
and struck so vehemently against its outer barriers of 
arteries and veins that it gradually overcame them; His 
blushing for our sins was bleeding for them. 

Doubtless during His agony Jesus wept many tears. 
But the most proper tears for the Redeemer of this 
fallen race are tears of blood, dropping from every pore, 
and ''trickling down upon the ground. " Surely, too, as 
He sweat blood, His eyes wept tears which mingled with 
His bloody sweat. Let me listen to Him sobbing and 
naming my name amid His sobs. Let me touch His 
drooping face and feel the clammy drops of my Savior's 
blood. 

There are those who can hardly bear to hear a child 
sob, though they know that children weep and laugh the 
same minute. But let me hear a message from Jesus in 
His literally heart-breaking sobs, and let me listen to my 
own name gasped meanwhile in His petitions to the 
Father for my forgiveness. 

When Jesus wept at the grave of Lazarus the Jews 
said: "Behold how He loved him" (John xi. 36). And 
from the beginning of the world tears have proved a 
friend's love better than the tenderest words, or gifts of 
gold — but not better than the shedding of blood. So the 
angel might point towards that figure bent in sorrow, 
weeping and bleeding, and say to me : Behold how He 
loved thee. 



Chapter X. 
The End of the Agony in the Garden. 

And He cometh to his disciples and He findeth them sleeping 
for sorrow. . . . And He said: Watch ye and pray that ye 
enter not into temptation. The spirit, indeed, is willing, but the 
flesh is weak. . . . And they knew not what to answer Him. 
. . . Then, when He rose up from prayer, He cometh to His 
disciples the third time, and saith to them: Sleep ye now and 
take your rest. It is enough, the hour is come; behold the Son 
of Man shall be betrayed into the hands of sinners. Rise up, 
let us go. Behold he that will betray Me is at hand (Matt. xxvi. 
40, 46; Mark xiv. 37, 42). 

Our Redeemer is now returned, and finally, to His 
three drowsy watchers. Before this He had said of .them : 
"The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak," as 
if He were apologizing to His own wounded feelings for 
their weakness. Was it a weakness of faith? No; for 
it was not of the spirit, but of the flesh, yet a weakness 
of flesh that closely touched the spirit and deadened its 
courage. 

"Sleep ye now, and take your rest," He said at last. 
St. Chrysostom supposes that this was said by way of 
reproof and in gentle irony. Others, like St. Augustine, 
surmise that He spoke plainly, affectionately, granting 
them a little longer sleep. This was doubtless after the 
whole company of the Apostles were united together. 
And, if this supposition be the true one, while they aH 



The End of the Agony in the Garden. 61 

slept He watched, waiting for the coming of Judas and 
his band of soldiers. 

This supposition gives our Redeemer a little time for 
reflection. And He feels that one period of His passion 
is now done, and that a most important one. There are 
hours of pain whose minutes are years. When His agony 
was over He felt as if He were at the end of a long life, a 
life of sin, and that He had died impenitent ; sinful living 
and impenitent dying and eternal retribution had occupied 
Him wholly. 

There is little doubt but that the sufferings of Jesus 
in the Garden were the most painful of His whole pas- 
sion. This is seen from the nature of the case, they be- 
ing more interior than any others; and it is shown also 
by His thrice repeated plea to His Father for relief, the 
like of which did not afterwards occur ; and the marvelous 
symptom of His bloody sweat. The worst is over, we 
might think that He said to Himself, with a deep sigh of 
relief. And we might suppose that when He exclaimed : 
"Let us go hence !"He led His Apostles forth with thanks- 
giving to God that He was leaving that dismal scene 
of His mental anguish, glad to exchange it even for the 
embrace of Judas Iscariot. But, alas ! the worst was not 
over. The worst was certainly what He suffered in the 
Garden. But it was to continue right on through His 
entire passion. The sorrow of the Garden was not all 
His sorrow unto death- — "My soul is sorrowful even unto 
death" — but it was His chief sorrow until death, being 
the dull undertone of every pain He suffered. This is 
shown at the very end. For His complaint in the Garden 
— "O, My Father, if it be possible, let this chalice pass 
away from me" — did He not renew it again on the cross 



62 The Agony in the Garden. 

when he exclaimed : "My God, My God, why hast Thou 
forsaken Me?" 

Besides arousing our deepest feelings of sympathy, 
adoration and gratitude, many lessons are learned by 
study of the Agony in the Garden. A principal one is, 
how noble it is to suffer for others, even the most un- 
worthy, nay, one's deadliest enemies. From earliest 
childhood I have resented being blamed for the faults of 
others. Not so Christ ; it was His very dearest choice to 
suffer for others, even the most undeserving, and He would 
have all His disciples imitate Him in this, and be glad of 
being blamed for the faults of others. What once stung 
me with a sense of injustice must now be welcomed as a 
favor. "Things that aforetime my soul refused to 
touch are now through anguish become my needful meat" 
(Job vi. 7), might our Lord have said in the Garden, and 
we must say the same in many a case of daily life. Either 
to suffer for the sins of others by being blamed and 
punished for them, or to feel the pangs of interior hunger 
and thirst in a desire to save souls in that painful way- 
such is the only alternative left to a really fervent disci- 
ple of Christ, after meditating on the Agony in the 
Garden. 

A beautiful and most welcome teaching of the Agony 
is that suffering for others in a Christian spirit makes us 
love them with increased devotedness. Among men 
generally the more one man suffers on account of another 
man, the more he hates him. But with Christians all 
suffering is an offering of love, and love is greatly 
augmented by it. "A woman, when she is in labor, hath 
sorrow, because her hour is come; but when she hath 
brought forth the child, she remembereth no more the 



The End of the Agony in the Garden. 63 

anguish for joy that a man is born into the world" (John 
xvi. 21). A mother's joy is the joy of gratified love. She 
measures her child's love-worthiness by what she suffered 
for him, day and night, from first to last, in bearing him, 
at his birth, and later on in her many sorrows during his 
childhood and youth. The memory of her pains feeds her 
maternal love, and the same is to be said of every other 
love. Love grows rich in joy by bartering pleasure for 
pain. So our blessed Savior loves me immeasurably 
more on account of that pain I cost Him in the Garden 
and on the Cross than if He redeemed me painlessly. I 
in my turn will love others more and have more joy in 
them in proportion to what I suffer for them in His spirit 
and after His example. 

We learn, too, that submission to the divine will in 
painful things is quite consistent with a loving protest 
against suffering them ; and, also, that entire obedience to 
superiors may follow candid expostulation. 

Furthermore, trust in God's loving care is most pow- 
erfully taught by the Agony in the Garden, even when 
appearances indicate His total forgetfulness of our needs 
or even of our fate ; for nothing marks one for a true dis- 
ciple of Christ more plainly than perseverance in prayer 
amid, and even in proportion to, the intolerable feeling of 
abandonment by the One to whom we pray — for "Being 
in an agony, He prayed the longer." 

One of the truest tests of wisdom is in distinguishing 
between the greater and lesser in the mingling of spiritual 
forces. Our Savior's passion, and especially His Agony, 
teaches us that the main force in every work of religion, 
interior or exterior, is what is variously called fortitude, 
endurance, patience. "The patient man is better than the 



64 The Agony in the Garden. 

valiant, and he that ruleth his spirit better than he that 
taketh cities" (Prov. xvi. 32). Jesus won our victory by 
standing His ground against our enemies rather than by 
assaulting and carrying their citadel by aggressive 
methods of spiritual warfare. These, to be sure, have 
their place; but, taking our whole life together, the first 
place must be awarded to patient waiting on the delays 
of God and patient endurance of the mistreatment of men. 

We have already spoken of the superabundance of 
our Redeemer's sufferings, as shown in the Agony in the 
Garden, and this is a lesson worthy of further thought, 
for it corrects a grudging spirit in the service of God and 
our neighbor. His excess of suffering is an admonition to 
not a few, who confine their service to what the law de- 
mands, and are forever balancing obedience and penalties 
in their minds — show me a penalty or I will not obey, they 
seem constantly to say. Let us learn from Jesus that love, 
when it is real, has no exact measure, and that a true al- 
legiance resents the very suggestion of penalties as a mo- 
tive of conduct. Love by measure would be duty, or 
justice, not love, or at best a lower form of it. Our 
Savior's atonement is an ocean of the superfluity of love. 

Consider that one tear of sorrow from a God-Man 
would have been enough to save us all, and more than 
enough. Then consider His many tears and His deadly 
sorrow and His bloody sweat and His utter abandonment 
to the fury of His enemies — His whole passion and death ; 
consider all this, and if you are a lukewarm Christian, a 
minimizer of toil and suffering for the honor of God and 
the good of souls, you will be put to shame. Here then 
is the Lord's pattern of a zealous priest, parent, brother, 
friend. One tear of His would have given me everlasting 



The End of the Agony in the Garden. 65 

bliss; yet He gave me entire immolation of all joy of soul 
and all ease of body. 

And these lessons are, every one of them, of a very 
practical nature. For the Agony is the archetype of the 
sacrament of penance, the most matter of fact of all our 
Redeemer's institutions. In the Garden we study confes- 
sion, contrition and satisfaction under our divine Master 
Himself. He confesses His sins — which are ours made 
His by His love — after a perfect examination of con- 
science, that is to say, of all human wickedness, resulting 
in an exact knowledge of it. His confession is so true and 
so full of confusion as to bring a blush of actual blood- 
shedding shame upon His face and form. His contrition 
embraces every one's guilt, and is inspired by every grade 
of motive, from the dull heaviness of fear — "He began to 
fear and to be heavy" — to the very agony of horror at the 
injury done to the divine majesty, so infinitely good. He 
will accept the penance imposed by His Father, and faith- 
fully perform it, by enduring all the misery that now shall 
happen to Him, from the moment He freely says : "I am 
He" to those who seek His life, till He exclaims : "It is 
finished," and expires on the cross. Confession, contri- 
tion and satisfaction are here all properly patterned. And 
as the main element of hope in the sacrament of penance 
is the sinner's interior sentiment of sorrow, so the Agony 
in the Garden, our Savior's contrition, his mental obla- 
tion to an offended deity, is the essential reason of our 
salvation, though it is yet to be perfected by His death on 
the cross. 

All this is a reproach to not a few Christians. Their 
use of the sacrament of penance, the holy rite most closely 
allied to the Agony in the Garden, as well as the main 



66 The Agony in the Garden. 

channel of His most precious blood, is too often more a 
formality of external observance than an interior self- 
arraignment under the eye of an offended God. 

And presently Jesus will leave the Garden of Olives, 
and will enter on another stage of His office of Redeemer. 
His heart is still full of dread ; and yet it is burning with 
eagerness, for He knows now as never before what a 
doom His death will save us from. In this spirit it is, 
one of mingled fear and fortitude, that He awakens His 
Apostles and leaves the scene of His heroic striving of 
spirit, saying : "Arise, let us go hence ; he that will be- 
tray Me is at hand." 



PART II. 

Jesus in the Power of the High Priests. 

Chapter I. 

Jesus Goes to Meet His Enemies. 

And Jesus cometh to His disciples and saith to them: It is 
enough, the hour is come; behold the Son of Man shall be be- 
trayed into the hands of sinners. Rise up, let us go. Behold, 
he that will betray Me is at hand. And Judas also, who betrayed 
Him, knew the place; because Jesus had often resorted thither 
together with His disciples. Judas, therefore, having received a 
band of soldiers and servants from the chief priests and the 
Pharisees, cometh thither with lanterns and torches and weapons ; 
and he . . . went before them and drew near to Jesus to 
kiss Him. He had given them a sign, saying: Whomsoever I 
shall kiss, that is Jie; lay hold on Him and lead Him away 
carefully. And when he was come, immediately going up to 
Him, he saith : Hail, Rabbi ! and he kissed Him. And Jesus 
said to him: Friend, whereto art thou come? Judas, dost thou 
betray the Son of Man with a kiss? Jesus, therefore, knowing 
all things that should come upon Him, went forward and said 
to them : Whom seek ye ? They answered Him : Jesus of Naz- 
areth. Jesus saith to them : I am He. And Judas also who be- 
trayed Him, stood with them. As soon then as He had said to 
them: I am He, they went backward, and fell to the ground. 
Again, therefore, He asked them: Whom seek ye? And they 
said: Jesus of Nazareth. Jesus answered: I have told you 
that I am He. If, therefore, you seek Me, let these go their way ; 
that the word might be fulfilled which He said: Of them whom 
Thou hast given Me, I have not lost any one. And they that 
were about Him, seeing what would follow, said to Him: Lord, 



68 Jesus in the Power of the High Priests. 

shall we strike with the sword? Then Simon Peter, having a 
sword, drew it, and struck the servant of the high priest, and cut 
off his right ear. And the name of the servant was Malchus. 
But Jesus, answering, said : Suffer ye thus far. And when He 
had touched his ear, He healed him. Then Jesus said to Peter: 
Put up again thy sword into the scabbard; for all that take the 
sword shall perish with the sword. Thinkest thou that I cannot 
ask My Father, and He will give Me presently more than twelve 
legions of angels? How then shall the scripture be fulfilled, that 
so it must be done? The chalice which My Father hath given 
Me, shall I not drink it? And Jesus said to the chief priests and 
magistrates of the temple, and the ancients and the multitude 
that was come unto Him: Are you come out as it were against 
a robber, with swords and clubs, to apprehend Me? I sat daily 
with you teaching in the temple, and you laid not hands on Me; 
but this is your hour, and the power of darkness. Now all this 
was done, that the scriptures of the prophets might be fulfilled. 
Then His disciples leaving Him, all fled away. Then the band 
and the tribune and the servants of the Jews took Jesus and 
bound Him. And a certain young man followed Him, having a 
linen cloth cast about his naked body, and they laid hold on him. 
But he, casting off the linen cloth, fled from them naked (Matt, 
xxvi. 45-56 ; Mark xiv. 41-52; Luke xxii. 47-54; John xviii. 2-12). 

There is an air of hurry in our Redeemer's manner as 
He passes from His Agony in the Garden to His Agony 
among His enemies : "It is enough, the hour is come" ; 
"Rise up, let us go; behold he that will betray Me is 
at hand." It is the eagerness of our lover hastening to 
His appointment with us. One not knowing Jesus might 
have looked for another sort of eagerness : He is at hand 
that will betray Me, come and behold Me smite him with 
a thunderbolt. No, no; but the very contrary: I will 
receive him affectionately; I will accept his kiss of false- 
hood, and return it with one of true love; I will even 
make a last desperate effort to win him back to Me. 



Jesus Goes to Meet His Enemies. 69 

Even so, I must die; I must die by his treason, even if 
he repent. But I will die with far greater willingness if 
I can but save the man who betrays Me to death. 

It was not to be. Jesus forboded that He would fail to 
save Judas. Had He not called Judas the son of per- 
dition? (John xvii. 12). Yet He would not give him up. 
And He will now use, for the final struggle of divine love 
against love of money, not threats of vengeance, but the 
higher motives ; for our Savior knew that the very worst 
enemies of God usually are moved by appeals to love or 
not at all. The highest motives of repentance are 
expressed by the touching word — friend; it was uttered 
by Jesus as affectionately as it was reproachfully, in the 
very ear of Judas. And, indeed, if Jesus Himself — 
speaking literally face to face with him and embracing 
him in unfeigned desire to pardon him and receive him 
back — cannot move Judas, what threat of punishment, 
present or future, can succeed ? 

Some such thoughts filled the heart of Jesus as He 
went to meet the traitor. How unworthy was the object 
of them. "Judas went before them, and drew nigh to 
Jesus to kiss him." Jesus is dreaming of softening and 
winning the spy who is guiding His enemies, an apostate 
disciple now become the sole dependence of the con- 
spirators for accomplishing the death of their victim. The 
spy on his part is saying to his new-found associates: 
"Whomsoever I shall kiss, that is He; lay hold on Him 
and lead Him away carefully." 

They must have insisted that Judas would point his 
Master out very plainly, for they had only the uncertain 
light of the moon, and Jesus was not notably different in 
dress from His Apostles. The kiss, therefore, was the 



70 Jesus in the Power of the High Priests. 

best means of identifying Jesus. And it would serve 
another purpose : it would deceive the Apostles, whom 
Judas had reason to fear; from Jesus he dreaded no re- 
sistance. The kiss is the safest token for the traitor and 
the deadliest for Christ. The coming of Judas is the ap- 
proach of murder clothed in a kiss. Could treason choose 
a more fitting garb ? 

And yet to our Redeemer it opened a door of hope 
for the repentance of Judas and his reconciliation. As if 
to say: If I could once have him in My arms and kiss 
him affectionately, I might win him yet. The fact of 
Judas kissing Him in treachery would not hinder but help 
His holy plan ; to the caress of affection it would add the 
sting of reproach. Therefore, as Judas came up and 
placed his arms over Jesus' shoulders and kissed him, our 
Redeemer said to him — right in his very ear, the very 
moment of returning his false kiss : "Friend, whereto art 
thou come? Judas, dost thou betray the Son of Man 
with a kiss?" 

There cannot be the faintest doubt but that Christ's 
distress at the misfortune of Judas overcame all sense of 
justice aroused by his awful guilt. Jesus did not hate that 
arch-traitor — no; He loved him and kissed him and called 
him friend, and, in the act of receiving his death-blow 
from him, He whispered in his ear an affectionate re- 
monstrance, a tender invitation to renewal of friendship, 
even though it was too late to undo the effects of the 
awful crime: "Friend, whereto art thou come? Judas, 
betrayest thou the Son of Man with a kiss ?" Words of 
everlasting import ! Scene of amazing love ! 

We read of the saints overcoming their natural repug- 
nance to human misery so far as to kiss and lick and suck 



Jesus Goes to Meet His Enemies. 71 

the fetid ulcers of a dying pauper. None of them ever 
did the like of Jesus in putting His lips to those of Judas 
Iscariot. Think of the lips of Jesus pressed to the lips of 
Judas ! — and most affectionately, pleadingly done. 

It is probable, too, that if Jesus had acted otherwise, 
had flung Judas back and exclaimed traitor! instead of 
receiving and returning his embrace, then would Peter, 
instead of striking Malchus, have thrust his sword into 
the traitor's heart. Jesus, by returning Judas' kiss, saved 
him from death at the Apostle's hand, He healed the ear 
of Malchus, He saved the Apostles themselves from ar- 
rest and perhaps death — but he could not win back His 
perverted Apostle ; no, not even with a kiss. 

Then a strange thing happened. Our Savior would 
not be marked out and arrested by means of the spy's 
kiss. He miraculously held the soldiers off and struck 
them to the ground by an invisible force — not by His 
Father's angels, whose aid he expressly renounced, least 
of all by swords and strife ; but He flung the guard back- 
ward by a secret stroke. Be it remembered, too, that the 
guard was a large one, equivalent to a regiment of a 
thousand men, being led by a military tribune. 

Having thus shown His liberty, Jesus in his own time 
and way permitted His arrest. They did not, they were 
not allowed to recognize Him by the foul misuse of friend- 
ship's dearest token, a kiss. For after the kiss of Judas, 
and after the Lord had asked the soldiers, "Whom seek 
ye?" they did not answer, "We seek Thee," as they 
would have done had they been able to fix His identity by 
the sign agreed upon. But they answered, "We seek 
Jesus of Nazareth." They then identified Him by His 
own words: "I am He." How jealous He is of His 



*J2 Jesus in the Power of the High Priests. 

liberty, and how generous in the use of it. He will have 
every particle of the merit of His sacrifice, that He may 
have the more to offer to His Father for our salvation. 

Another assertion of His liberty was this : He re- 
proached His assailants that they had come to take Him 
and kill Him as if He were a common robber Why had 
they not arrested Him any day of the past fortnight, as 
He was back and forth among them in the city? It was 
because that time was His own, and they were powerless 
in it. Now he says : "This is your hour and the power 
of darkness," and only because He so willed it. It was 
wholly by His permission that they and the rulers of the 
realms of darkness could gain possession of Him. 

From first to last of His passion He might have extri- 
cated Himself at any time. He would not do so ; He pre- 
ferred to suffer all with entire willingness. He could 
have escaped by flight, knowing well the purpose of His 
enemies, the time and place they had set for seizing him. 
He deliberately refused to do so. He could have saved 
Himself by His power ; yet, after throwing His enemies 
backward upon the ground, He awaited their recovery 
and then their arrest of Him. By rescue ; twelve legions 
and more of angels impatiently awaited His signal. He 
never gave it. By persuasion; for, although Judas re- 
sisted Him, He would certainly have won some of the 
others and have divided and so baffled His enemies, for 
the very dead in their graves are moved by His words. 
On the contrary, He will not obstruct the Father's will 
by over-persuading His enemies, and His pleading before 
the chief priests and Pilate will lessen instead of increase 
His chances of acquittal. No; neither flight, nor force, 
nor eloquence, nor anything but submission to the will 



Jesus Goes to Meet His Enemies. 73 

of His Father, subjecting all majesty of power to the 
sovereign sweetness of love, shall now rule Him for our 
salvation. "The chalice which my Father hath given me, 
shall I not drink it ?" 

Let me remember that in resisting evil disposed men, 
even the most awful criminals, Jesus distinctly prefers the 
arms of meekness to the swords of the Apostles and the 
thunderbolts of His Father's angels. And this, He teaches 
me, is how the scriptures may be fulfilled. This doctrine 
is, or it ought to be, the very inspiration of my warfare 
against sinners. And it still holds true when the oppos- 
ing of gentle love to malicious hatred is likely or even 
certain to fail. The example of Jesus at His arrest is the 
very dogma of patient submission to enemies. Judas slays 
his victim with a token of love, says St. Ambrose; and, 
adds the holy doctor, Jesus kisses him in return to soften 
his heart and pierce it with the pain of repentance. Jesus 
had long since taught me by words : "I say to you, love 
your enemies" (Matt. v. 43). And now by word and 
deed He teaches me to love steadfastly my very Judases, 
to address them kindly, to treat them in every way and 
under all circumstances as friends, even in the very act of 
their betraying me to the most shameful of deaths. 



Chapter II. 
Shall We Strike With the Sword? 

Jesus, therefore, knowing all things that should come upon 
Him, went forward and said to them: Whom seek ye? They 
answered Him : Jesus of Nazareth. Jesus saith to them : I am 
He. . . . They went backward and fell to the ground. Again, 
therefore, He asked them: Whom seek ye? And they said: 
Jesus of Nazareth. Jesus answered : I have told you that I 
am He; if, therefore, you seek Me, let these go their way. . . , 
Then they that were about Him, seeing what would follow, said 
to Him: Lord, shall we strike with the sword? Then Simon 
Peter, having a sword, drew it, and struck the servant of the 
High Priest, and cut off his right ear. And the name of the 
servant was Malchus. But Jesus, answering, said: Suffer ye 
thus far. And when He had touched his ear He healed him. 
Then Jesus said to Peter: Put up again thy sword into the scab- 
bard. For all that take the sword shall perish with the sword. 
Thinkest thou that I cannot ask My Father, and he will give Me 
presently more than twelve legions of angels? How then shall 
the Scripture be fulfilled, that so it must be done? The chalice 
which My Father hath given me, shall I not drink it? And 
Jesus said to the chief priests and magistrates of the temple, and 
the ancients and the multitude. . . . This is your hour and 
the power of darkness. . . . Then His disciples leaving Him, 
all fled away. . . . Then the band and the tribune and the 
servants of the Jews took Jesus and bound Him (Matt. xxvi. 
51-56; Mark xiv. 46-50; Luke xxii. 49-54; John xviii. 4-12). 

There was an unvarying conflict of zeal between Jesus 
and His enemies ; they to punish Him and to destroy Him 
from the face of the earth, He to be punished and to be 
destroyed. Of the two, His zeal was the more eager and 



Shall We Strike With the Sword? 75 

determined; theirs was turbulent, headlong, even deliri- 
ous. Their motives were various forms of envy and hate; 
His simply one : "The chalice which My Father hath 
given Me to drink, shall I not drink it?" namely, the 
Father's will to save us by His Son's passion and death. 
In that spirit Jesus pressed onward to His fate. 

After the brief colloquy between Jesus and the traitor, 
the Apostles could no longer restrain their ardor. Peter 
called out to his Master, "Shall we strike with the 
sword?" Let it be said in the Apostles' favor, that if they 
failed as watchers they were ready to fight as the Lord's 
soldiers. But yet not under His obedience ; for they were 
not willing even to wait for His answer — they doubtless 
foreboded a refusal. Knowing His peaceful disposition, 
Peter, even as he asked his question, drew his sword and 
began to strike. 

Jesus stopped him immediately: "Put up again thy 
sword into the scabbard." And then — how very calm He 
was amid all this boiling passion — He went to Malchus, 
whom Peter had wounded, and He healed his ear. The 
sword, he plainly teaches, is not our weapon, but theirs 
whose work is born of brute force and perishes with it: 
"All that take the sword shall perish with the sword." 
Physical force is the appropriate weapon rather of error 
than of truth. The lovers of darkness love also the 
sword ; the children of light should hate the sword. We 
have, indeed, a sword, the two-edged sword of the spirit 
(Heb. iv. 12) ; one edge of it is the word of God; and 
patient suffering is the other. 

It often happens that the man most vehement in ac- 
tion is the most timid in suffering, as was the case with 
Peter. And yet it is by suffering and not by action that 



76 Jesus in the Power of the High Priests. 

God was pleased to save us. It follows that over much 
action seriously mars the work of Christ, and sometimes 
totally undoes it, zealots perishing with the sword of over- 
heated zeal which they have recklessly substituted for 
Christian patience — calm endeavor. 

And Jesus insisted : "Thinkest thou that I cannot ask 
My Father and He will give Me presently more than 
twelve legions of angels ?" The Apostles counted on 
human help, and their Master's mind was preoccupied 
with heavenly defence, though set upon refusing even 
that. No — as if to say — not angels nor men must save 
Me now; angels I reject and men I cannot have. But if 
men fail Me now they will not fail Me afterwards, and 
they will yet rival and surpass the angels themselves, 
both in love of Me and in heroic defence of Me. 

Peter had struck to kill, for he aimed at Malchus' 
head, who was doubtless the boldest of the officials. The 
darkness, the excitement, the fisherman's awkwardness, 
and, as some suppose, our Redeemer's merciful guidance 
of the blow, saved the man's life. And then the Lord 
healed his severed ear. Was it not a gracious act? 

It is not often that we rebuke evil men by healing the 
wounds they deservedly suffer. Yet it was not by wound- 
ing others, but by healing their w r ounds, and especially by 
suffering wounds Himself, that Christ would conquer, 
"by whose stripes we are healed" (I. Peter ii. 24). St. 
Ambrose says : "He who wished to save all by His own 
wounds wished not to be saved by the wounding of His 
persecutors. " 

And then Jesus turned again to His Apostles and 
said: "Suffer ye thus far." That is to say, allow them 
to arrest Me, for — now turning to the Jews — "this is your 



Shall We Strike With the Sword? 77 

hour and the power of darkness." His meaning is that 
the Apostles and their Master could not play different 
parts. It would be hypocrisy in Him to allow Himself to 
be apprehended, nay to meet and accept arrest, while, on 
the contrary, He allowed them to fight for a rescue, 
which, indeed, was, humanly speaking, impossible. There 
can be little doubt but that Peter's blow, had he not been 
rebuked, would have been the signal for a general and 
sudden onslaught of the Apostles — eleven against a 
thousand, one or two swords against the arms of several 
Roman cohorts; with what fatal results we can easily 
imagine. 

Peter smote with the sword of the flesh before his con- 
version. After Pentecost, in the exercise of the sovereign 
pontificate of Christ's Church, he bore in all meekness the 
highest authority the world has ever known. He is not 
pictured in Christian art as bearing a sword, nor are any 
of his successors. Armed with the sword he failed; 
armed with the keys of the kingdom of heaven, he ever 
succeeds in opening the door to straying sheep and shut- 
ting it to prowling wolves. St. Paul is the sword-bearer 
in Christian art, "bearing the sword of the spirit, which 
is the word of God" (Heb. iv. 12). His words cut deeper 
than any others, yet only to cut off hindrances to the free 
action of divine grace, hewing off the whole penal and 
ceremonial system of the Jewish dispensation and cleaving 
a way into men's hearts for the gospel of the grace of 
God (Acts xx. 24). 

We have already observed that in all this excitement 
Jesus alone is calm. Peter was hurried on by his eager- 
ness to protect Christ, who Himself was guided de- 
liberately by the counsels of His Father. Peter failed, as 



78 Jesus in the Power of the High Priests. 

many others fail, because headlong zeal to accomplish a 
good end blinds their judgment as to the choice of means, 
and especially as to the appointment of God in the direc- 
tion of their superiors. Jesus kept His Superior, His 
Father, ever in close touch, and never forgot His 
Father's scriptures, which now He reverently quoted. 
Very deep was His reverence for those ancient scriptures, 
which were God's counsel about Him and the whole race 
of His fellow-men. Point by point, in letter and spirit, 
would He fulfil them. 

May our own hearts in times of distress be like His 
at His arrest ; our Father's chalice to be drunk, His divine 
will in our hearts, His divine words upon our lips. The 
result in our case will be the same as in His. His ene- 
mies trusted in brute force, and they failed totally and 
are execrated by all succeeding generations. His 
Apostles trusted in the same kind of help, and they failed 
totally. He alone was right. He trusted in gentle per- 
suasion and patient suffering, and the whole world adores 
Him as its Master. Peter chooses the sword, and pres- 
ently, as we shall see, he turns coward, and that of the 
meanest kind. Jesus assails him with the weapon of love, 
an affectionate look, and he is immediately recovered to 
his Master, nay, he is transformed into a hero. 

Our Redeemer now saw that He was to be dragged 
away from His beloved Apostles, and His farewell 
thought was for their safety. He said to the leaders of 
His enemies : "If, therefore, you seek Me, let these go 
their way"; and as He spoke these words, which saved 
His faithful friends, He reached out His hands for the 
handcuffs of his foes — hands already fast bound in the 
fetters of resignation to His Father's will. 



Shall We Strike With the Sword? *]$ 

He thus saved His disciples. He did so because He 
insisted on absorbing Himself alone all the suffering of 
the world's atonement, He would tread the wine press 
alone (Isaias lxiii. 6) ; and because, as He had carefully 
instructed them, He would have them survive Him for 
founding and organizing His Church. And also to show 
His tender love for them. Therefore, had He said to His 
Father : "Of them that thou gavest Me, I have not lost 
any one" (John xviii. 9). 

Although He had surrendered to His enemies, they 
dared not assail His followers. They could not forget 
His power in hurling them backward, a miracle mainly 
intended, perhaps, for this very purpose. 

If it be asked how His assailants dared still persist 
in arresting Him after this evidence of miraculous power, 
the answer is that the pagans in the band knew Him only 
as a magician, and the Jews believed Him in league with 
Beelzebub. 

"Then His disciples leaving Him, all fled away." They 
were ready to fight, but unwilling to be arrested and to 
suffer with Him. And so they fled away, one and all, 
and the soldiers "took Jesus and bound Him." Our Re- 
deemer is at last in the hands of His enemies. 



Chapter III. 

Jesus a Prisoner. 

Then His disciples leaving Him, all fled away. Then they 
came up and laid hands upon Him and held Him. Then the band 
and the tribune and the servants of the Jews took Jesus and 
bound Him. And they led him away to the high priest's house 
(Matt. xxvi. 50, 56, 57; Mark xiv. 46, 50, 53; Luke xxii. 54; 
John xviii. 12, 13). 

And so at last Jesus is delivered to His enemies, bound 
and led away. How great a shock to His feelings as He 
exchanges the company of His Apostles for that of the 
men led by Judas, revelling in their mastery over Him. 
A while ago He felt that His words were their terror and 
dismay; now He is their helpless victim, and His majestic 
power is stripped from Him, so to remain till after His 
death. 

Yet He felt consoled at what He had achieved since 
leaving the Garden. He had plainly shown that He gave 
Himself up voluntarily, first by holding off the angelic 
legions, then by miraculously casting His assailants back- 
ward to the ground, and finally by healing Malchus' ear. 
He had made a last effort to save Judas. He had secured 
the safety of His Apostles. He had taught an immortal 
lesson of submission to the divine will, never losing touch 
with His Father's purpose, ever adverting to the scrip- 
tures for His plans and His motives. He had recorded 
His protest against the treachery and violence of His 



Jesus a Prisoner, 81 

arrest in the darkness and secrecy of the night. All this 
with indescribable elevation of spirit and manner, and 
with perfect calmness of mind, though meanwhile His 
soul was sorrowful even unto death. And now He gives 
His wrists to be bound, and offers His neck to the rope 
with which they will drag Him away. 

We believe that His first sensation was the pain of 
being alone. To few is it given to know the full meaning 
of that word alone, to none except those in the plight of 
our Redeemer at His arrest; not only abandoned by all 
friends divine and human, but suddenly flung into the 
clutches of deadly enemies. When He entered the Gar- 
den He, indeed, bade adieu to His Father's consolation. 
He retained, however, the company of His disciples, best 
loved of all His people. Dull and slow of heart as they 
were, he knew them to be loyal and true. And now with 
a quick offering of Himself to the stern justice of His 
Father — that silent and relentless exactor of our ransom — 
Jesus also bids farewell to those beloved earthly associ- 
ates, those friends whom He had so carefully chosen, and 
who had shared His marvelous career for three eventful 
years. As He is bound and led away, He turns a linger- 
ing glance back upon them and sees their forms vanishing 
into the shadows of the olive orchard. He is abandoned 
now by both God and man. His only comfort is that He 
has so managed that His Apostles shall not be molested 
nor pursued. 

We know not whether his hands were tied together 
in front or behind His back. From Judas' word of cau- 
tion we may suppose the latter, as being the safer way; 
and for the same reason, also, that He was led along by a 
rope tied about His neck. We may be certain, too, that 



82 Jesus in the Power of the High Priests. 

the arrest was accompanied with acts of violence. Our 
hearts bleed as in spirit we stand by and hear their shouts 
of triumph over Him, the foul names they call Him, and 
see them begin to beat Him. Deep as was the gloom of 
His soul, deeper still was His sense of submissiveness to 
them as the instruments of our redemption. He was en- 
tirely collected and self-possessed as they hurried Him off 
to His fate. 

Knowing the feelings of the chief priests, our Savior's 
captors may well have supposed that He would be put to 
death inside of an hour, and this made them all the more 
pitiless. He was very tightly and securely bound, not 
only from fear of a rescue, but because their leaders hated 
Him intensely, and they would avenge upon Him the fall 
He had just given them by His magical arts, as they 
deemed His miraculous gifts. 

The arrest of Jesus created, without doubt, consider- 
able stir in the city, late as was the hour. The detach- 
ment of soldiers was in the neighborhood of a thousand 
strong, under as high an officer as a military tribune, 
thus lending at this early stage of the passion emphatic 
sanction of the Roman authority to the proceedings 
against Jesus. Then some members of the priesthood 
were there, in order to make sure of receiving their vic- 
tim from the disciple to whom they had paid money for 
Him; and with them there was "a great multitude" of 
their officials and servants. So large a body must have 
disturbed the city by its movements, especially while re- 
turning with their prisoner. We can be quite sure that, 
as they went back into the city, the adherents of the chief 
priests began at that midnight hour those yells of derision, 
triumph, hatred, fury, that formed so prominent a feature 



Jesus a Prisoner. 83 

of the occurrences later on in the passion. How their 
voices grated on Jesus' ear and stunned His heart. How 
their scowling faces shocked Him. How could He help 
remembering the acclaim of praise and worship with 
which the Jewish multitudes received Him the preceding 
Sunday. 

How different an entrance into Jerusalem was that. 
The disciples go to a friend's house in the city and bring 
out a peaceful ass, and Jesus, seated on this humble beast 
as His royal charger, enters the city at high noon in tri- 
umph, amid the loud cheers of a vast assemblage of the 
people. And now, a disciple has turned spy; he has 
gone to the murderous enemies of Jesus and he has sold 
his Master's life away for money ; he leads out and guides 
a band of soldiers and hirelings ; and Jesus at the dead 
hour of night is dragged, handcuffed and in shame, to 
His death amid the jeers of "a great multitude" of fero- 
cious wretches. 

Patient endurance of injuries is given a lofty place 
among our Christian virtues by this night's occurrences. 
And, besides this, behold how Christian obedience shines 
forth. From the moment He offers His all-powerful hands 
to be manacled by His deadly foes, and is led off wholly 
subject to them, until He expires, Jesus scarcely ever uses 
His liberty. We say scarcely ever; for He did refuse 
to obey both the chief priests and Pilate when they bade 
Him answer, and also Herod. In those cases He resumed 
His liberty in the interests of His atonement, for His 
silence but strengthened His enemies against Him. The 
worth of His example of obedience to us is shown when 
we consider that the peculiar malice of every sin takes at 
last the form of disobedience : "I have broken Thy yoke, 



84 Jesus in the Power of the High Priests. 

and I have burst Thy bond, and I have said: I will not 
serve" (Jer. ii. 20). 

How deep a love is Thine for me, O Jesus, to urge 
Thee to so great a sorrow, so sad a death ! How eager 
Thy purpose, how urgent Thy love. When the prodigal, 
his heart full of true repentance, was yet afar off, his 
father ran to meet him. While Judas, his heart full of 
all guile, was yet approaching, Thou didst say: Let us 
hasten to meet him who will betray Me. O Jesus, it was 
not Judas and his band that made Thee captive, it was 
love for me — even me. Love is the fetter that binds Thy 
hands, love is the seal that closes Thy lips lest they call 
the hosts of heaven to the rescue— love for me, who have 
before now enlisted and served in Judas' band, and have 
had my full share in insulting and tormenting Thee by 
my sins. 



Chapter IV. 

Jesus Arraigned Before the High Priests. 

And they led Him away to Annas first, for He was father-in- 
law to Caiaphas, who was high priest of that year. And Annas 
sent Him bound to Caiaphas, the high priest. And all the priests 
and the scribes were assembled together. The high priest then 
asked Jesus of His disciples and of His doctrine. Jesus answered 
him: I have spoken openly to the world; I have always taught 
in the synagogue and in the temple, whither all the Jews resort, 
and in secret I have spoken nothing. Why askest thou Me? Ask 
them who have heard what I have spoken unto them; behold, 
they know what things I have said. And when He had said 
these things, one of the servants standing by, gave Jesus a blow, 
saying: Answerest Thou the high priest so? Jesus answered 
him: If I have spoken evil, give testimony of the evil; but if 
well, why strikest thou Me? (Matt. xxvi. 57; Mark xiv. 53; Luke 
xxii. 54; John xviii. 12, 13, 19-24). 

When Jesus was arrested and dragged away it was 
midnight; Good Friday had come, the happiest day in 
the life of our race, because our Redeemer's most sor- 
rowful day, that of His death. 

While the band of soldiers, guided by Judas and ac- 
companied by some of the leading priests, were engaged 
in seizing and binding Jesus, the chief conspirators were 
awaiting their return in the house of Annas. How great 
was their joy when the breathless messengers announced 
the success of their plans ; at last they had Him in their 
power. He will be a dead man to-morrow, must have 
been their exclamation. How much greater their joy 



86 Jesus in the Power of the High Priests. 

when they actually saw Him. How they must have raged 
against Him. They would slay Him instantly, but that 
their malignity is as cunning as it is ferocious. They had 
no power of life and death, that being reserved to the 
Roman governor, whom they dare not offend. And He 
must be crucified — the crudest of deaths and the most 
ignominious is to be His. That means Rome's court for 
His trial for the cross is Rome's gibbet. And now He is 
to be condemned by the Jewish court to make certain of 
the same result when He is arraigned before the Roman 
governor. 

Jesus was first examined by Annas because he was 
the rightful head of the priesthood, and then by Caiaphas, 
the chief priest by Roman appointment. Just what trans- 
pired at the house of Annas we do not know. Doubtless 
the tribune and the greater part of the soldiers were here 
dismissed as no longer needed. Then "Annas sent Him 
bound to Caiaphas, the high priest," both of them arrang- 
ing to meet and hold court over Jesus in the morning. 
It was before Caiaphas that He was first regularly ex- 
amined that night, but not as at a final trial, for the law 
of Moses mercifully forbade such trials during the hours 
of darkness ; the legal condemnation must be postponed 
till the return of daylight. The whole substance of ac- 
cusation and proof could, however, be now conveniently 
arranged for a more summary and brief process in the 
early morning. They must make that short, for they 
must secure every possible moment of time for obtaining 
on the morrow the condemnation of Jesus and His execu- 
tion before the Sabbath hours of the evening. 

As our Redeemer stands before this court, whose 
judges are His fiercest enemies, let us honor Him and 



Jesus Arraigned Before the High Priests. 87 

adore Him. We gladly do so when we behold Him as 
the world's teacher, and as He triumphs over the grave 
in His resurrection. But now He is beginning the work 
most essential for our salvation, sorrowful of heart, alone 
among His enemies. Jesus, in Caiaphas' court we adore 
Thee and we love Thee, and we hail Thee as our Re- 
deemer. 

This night process opened with an attempt by the court 
to force Jesus both to condemn Himself and to betray 
His friends. "The high priest asked Jesus of His disci- 
ples and His doctrine." Our Redeemer answered by 
stating, what was notoriously true, that His teaching was 
always open and candid, never concealed from the public. 
And then He reproached Caiaphas for his injustice in 
requiring Him to criminate Himself. "Why askest thou 
Me ? Ask them who have heard what I have spoken unto 
them." They had accused Him and arrested Him; let 
them now prove their charge against Him. 

The dignity of Jesus and His entire calmness and self- 
possession was an admirable spectacle, greatly in contrast 
with the hurry and excitement of the conspirators. But 
this undaunted bearing and His unanswerable defence, 
beautiful to His friends (if, alas! friends of His any had 
been there), w r as perplexing and provoking to His ene- 
mies. And as the tones of His voice, so deep and sweet 
and penetrating, ceased to be heard, silence and dismay 
fell upon the court room. But they had an answer and 
they gave it, the only one possible; their craft was 
baffled and exhausted — silenced, but brute force was yet 
theirs, always theirs in abundance. "One of the ser- 
vants standing by gave Jesus a blow," doubtless by sug- 
gestion of one of the chief priests. Jesus received this out- 



88 Jesus in the Power of the High Priests. 

rageous indignity very patiently; and, addressing the 
court through this minion, again demanded evidence of 
His guilt and protested against the blow given Him. That 
blow was an awful deed. Would that every affront of- 
fered me had left me as unmoved as was my innocent 
Redeemer when that coward struck Him in the face. Let 
me contrast the fury of the ruffian and the calmness of 
his victim, and learn a lesson. 

This is the first recorded blow that Jesus received in 
His passion. Yet He may have been struck at His seizure 
in the Garden by some of the infuriated rabble of the chief 
priests' servants, doubtless He was. At any rate, blows of 
all kinds soon became common enough. Such arguments 
as blows they offered plentifully, till He expired under 
them. He had challenged them to produce evidence of 
His guilt; they answered by beating Him in the face 
with their fists — the best evidence of their own malicious 
injustice, and of His entire innocence as well as perfect 
patience. 

This blow, O Jesus ! struck by one who stands in my 
place, is the first token I give Thee in Thy passion ; Thy 
corpse in Mary's arms will bear many another mark I 
shall have stamped on Thee by my partners' hands — 
pledges of my hate, given with fist and scourge, with nail 
and spear. And, O marvel of forgiveness ! these very 
wounds that now I deal Thee will yet remind Thee most 
lovingly of me that dealt them, and touch Thy heart 
with tender memories of me for all eternity. 



Chapter V. 
The Silence of Jesus. 

Now the chief priests and the whole council sought false wit- 
ness against Jesus, that they might put Him to death; and they 
found not, whereas many false witnesses had come in, and their 
evidence did not agree. And last of all there came in two false 
witnesses, saying: We heard Him say: I am able to destroy the 
Temple of God, made with hands, and within three days I will 
build another not made with hands. And their witness did not 
agree. And the high priest, rising up in the midst, asked jesus, 
saying: Answerest Thou nothing to the things that are laid to 
Thy charge by these men? But He held His peace, and answered 
nothing (Matt. xxvi. 59-66; Mark xiv. 55-64). 

Of all the hidden wisdom of Christ none is more in- 
accessible to the worldly minded than silent endurance of 
injuries. Nor are the more Christian minded quite free 
from dubious questioning as to the good policy of stand- 
ing mute in the face of unjust accusation, even in our 
Savior's trials before the chief priests, Pilate and Herod. 
These trials involved all that God and man could hold 
dear, the fair fame of the Son of God and His release 
from imminent peril of the most shameful death. And 
how could He keep silent, we are tempted to ask, when 
His heart was consumed with burning zeal for truth and 
justice, now being fearfully outraged? 

Why not, instead of silent suffering, have given us 
at these trials a series of discourses equal to those He 
gave in the quiet and security of the supper-room ? These 



90 Jesus in the Power of the High Priests. 

form the most touching appeals to our heart's love ; those 
before Caiaphas and Pilate would be the greatest invec- 
tives against crime ever known. What an opportunity 
to exercise his office of teacher. No; He decided to 
remain silent. And His reasons are easily found if we 
reverently take His place. This is not His time of vindi- 
cation but of suffering. Vindication is now impossible, 
except by an entire reversal of the divine plan, which is 
the inflicting of justice upon Him as the price of mercy 
for us. His office is that of atonement, and it now claims 
a monopoly ; it is higher, if possible, than that of teaching, 
and it is jealous of its prerogative. 

Nor have we any reason to suppose that He would be 
allowed to give such a defence as our instinctive sense of 
justice calls for. And even if permitted to make it, it 
would not move His judges to do Him justice, but rather 
deepen their hate and give a blacker shade to their guilt. 

And, meanwhile, Jesus does teach. His silence under 
these awful accusations is a powerful lesson by example. 
It has nerved millions of Christians to humble acceptance 
of calumny in the interests of peace and for the sake of 
saving the calumniators themselves. The silence of our 
Redeemer has made many a one more Christ-like than 
even His divine words. The Ecce Homo would not teach 
us God's love for man half so well if its plaintive silence 
were broken by a single word. His silence has been the 
inspiration of His Church's eloquence in His praise ever 
since, singing and proclaiming to the nations His ador- 
able patience under the obloquy of our sins ; for patience 
is better show T n by the sufferer than by the advocate. 

And consider the few words He dlcT say, from His 
seizure in the Garden till He expired, and you will own 



The Silence of Jesus. 91 

that they would lose much of their marvelous force if 
they had been lost in a great multitude of other words, 
which could only have been less wonderful, and would 
have distracted our rapture of attention to His teachings. 

From the time Jesus was arrested till the trials were 
all over and He took up His journey to Calvary, there 
passed about twelve hours. During all those hours He 
was constantly being addressed, questioned, cursed, ac- 
cused; and the number of words that He uttered in 
reply, when translated into English, is considerably less 
than three hundred, which could all be spoken at a leisure- 
ly rate in three minutes; twelve hours of incessant ac- 
cusation and railing, and twelve hours of silent submis- 
sion lacking three minutes. 

Jesus scarcely lifted His voice and never His hand, 
though omnipotent in both, in His defence. This was 
because even if he had been successful in His pleading, 
He would have robbed us of the most perfect manifesta- 
tion of divine love; the Son of God meekly suffering, 
bleeding, dying for man's redemption. When we gather 
about His pulpit on Calvary we shall hear words which, 
though few to count, are enough to instruct into salvation 
all the generatons of mankind, words uttered not in de- 
fence of Himself, but in love of us and all His other ene- 
mies. 

Thus His line of defence, well determined beforehand, 
was silence as the usual rule, with an occasional and re- 
luctantly uttered word, one which might best serve His 
chief purpose — suffering. And ever since that time 
silence under insult and injury has gained many a high 
victory in the career of God's servants ; but none so per- 
fect as that of Christ Himself before these tribunals. 



92 Jesus in the Power of the High Priests, 

Never was a plan of defence more successful, that is to 
say, more fatal to the alleged culprit, Christ, and more 
favorable to the real culprit, our fallen humanity. 

Jesus was not silent out of disdain for His accusers 
and their perjured court, for in His ministry He had given 
that class all the discourse with Him they ever asked, and 
much more. His was not a sullen silence, any more than 
it was a cowardly one. It was dictated by charity. Jesus 
chose to be silent because that is a form of resisting evil 
which lessens the malignity of enemies by abstaining from 
further provocation; and also because it adds a peculiar 
merit of meekness to patient suffering. 

Silent and observing and praying and suffering — there 
stood Jesus in Caiaphas' court. "Who will start a devo- 
tion to the unknown sorrows of Jesus ?" are words bor- 
rowed from the old English Catholic poet, Richard Cra- 
shaw. 

The example of Christ thus favors silence as a mode 
of defence. Few there are who, like Him, had rather 
be silent than speak out in their own defence, as long as 
the rights of other men and of God are not endangered. 
Yet consider how, in defending oneself, it is extremely 
difficult to safeguard truth, justice and charity toward our 
adversaries, not to mention humility. Self-defence in near- 
ly every case degenerates presently into self-approval, and 
is too often noisy, heated and retaliatory invective. Argu- 
ment, by contrasting oneself with others, is odious to a 
true Christian, and is almost inevitable in a heated de- 
fence. 

The trouble is that we fancy that silence under ac- 
cusation is not a mode of defence at all, but rather a con- 
fession of guilt, a form of consent to the accusations 



The Silence of Jesus. 93 

against us; whereas, allowing for exceptions, it simply 
appropriates the present to the practice of humility, and 
postpones defence to the time and circumstances appoint- 
ed by Providence, a time of greater peace and circum- 
stances favoring a fuller vindication. Present suffering 
means future joy in this as in so many other cases. How 
marvelously was this shown in our Redeemer's trials, 
and how many elect souls have been made perfect by 
herein following His example. 

How perfect and overwhelming are the vindications 
of Providence. Yet who is willing to wait for them? 
Our Redeemer's example teaches us that in times of trial 
much silence and little speaking is our best co-operation 
with God's purposes in permitting such visitations. Not 
the least of these is the cure of pride. There are some 
bodily diseases cured by mere abstinence from food. And 
in like manner many diseases of our souls are helped — 
and some are cured, notably vain glory — by silence under 
accusations true or false, silence being in such cases the 
abstinence of the mind from the food of pride. 



Chapter VI. 
The Judges, the Witnesses, the Evidence. 

Now Caiaphas was he who had given the counsel to the Jews, 
that it was expedient that one man should die for the people. 
The high priest then asked Jesus of His disciples and of His 
doctrine. Jesus answered him: I have spoken openly to the 
world. . . . Why askest thou Me? Ask them who have 
heard what I have spoken unto them; behold, they know what 
things I have said. And when He had said these things, one of 
the servants standing by, gave Jesus a blow, saying: Answerest 
Thou the high priest so? Jesus answered him: If I have spoken 
evil, give testimony of the evil; but if well, why strikest thou 
Me? . . . And last of all, there came in two false witnesses, 
saying: We heard Him say: I am able to destroy the Temple 
of God, made with hands, and within three days I will build 
another not made with hands. And their witness did not agree 
(Matt. xxvi. 59-61; Mark xiv. 55-59; John xviii. 14, 19-23). 

Before considering the final scene in the trial of Jesus 
before Caiaphas, we can profit by a general survey of the 
methods and the matter of the legal process, as arranged 
and carried out by the chief priests. St. Chrysostom re- 
marks: "The same persons bring the charge, discuss it 
and pass sentence." He might add that these also sub- 
born the false witnesses. "The chief priests and the whole 
council sought false witnesses against Jesus." In all the 
proceedings, before both Jewish and Roman courts, every 
one of the judges was false, and all the witnesses were 
false, and every sentence pronounced was incredibly false, 
unjust and cruel. 



The Judges , the Witnesses, the Evidence. 95 

Imagine the feelings of Jesus as such men "questioned 
Him about His disciples and His doctrine" ; doubtless 
using such words as these: What dost Thou mean by or- 
ganizing Thy following ? Dost Thou not mean that these 
are to be lying prophets of Thy heresy ? How scornfully 
they must have asked him: What has become of Thy 
disciples? Tell us of Judas Iscariot, Thy treasurer and 
almoner. Tell us of Simon Peter, Thy vicar and key- 
bearer, who has just now sworn a great oath that he does 
not know Thee. No wonder that Jesus "held his peace 
and answered nothing." His silence had more reasons 
than meekness to explain it. But let us wait; in seven 
weeks' time the Apostles, at the mention of whose names 
Jesus now hangs His head in shame, will step forth the 
most majestic characters the world lias ever known. These 
caitiffs will yet rout all the hosts of idolatry, and make 
of the paganized universe a new earth and a new heaven. 
These shrinking creatures will utterly wither up Judaism 
as a religion, at the very time that Providence is scatter- 
ing the people of Israel to the ends of the earth. 

All nations have ever since been questioning about His 
doctrine and His disciples. His doctrine opens heaven to 
our hopes, reveals the infinite God as our Father, our 
Brother and the Spouse of our souls. His discipleship is 
a universal brotherhood of mutual affection, in which the 
Apostles and their successors give God's pardon to sin- 
ners, and offer Christ's very self in all fulness of love to 
every earnest seeker after peace and joy. 

"I have spoken openly," said Jesus; ask those that 
heard Me, as if to say, for the city is full of them. What ! 
will you force Me to convict Myself ? I have had no con- 
cealments. You have arrested Me and accused Me, prove 



96 Jesus in the Power of the High Priests. 

your case if you can ; witnesses are plenty. So spoke 
Jesus, not arrogantly, but in all the confidence of candor 
and truth. Then, as we have seen, a dastardly deed was 
done. One of the attendants gave Jesus a blow. Jesus 
received meekly this cowardly insult, fettered as He was, 
alone and friendless. He did not reproach the wretch 
for his ignoble act, but even condescended to remonstrate 
with him. 

Forced to bring in testimony against their prisoner, it 
was found to be utterly worthless. The witnesses testified 
that He had blasphemed God's holy temple in saying that 
He was able to destroy it, and build it again in three days. 
He had uttered this prophecy very early in His mission 
(John ii. 19), never dreaming of irreverence towards 
God's house, but referring to the temple of His own body 
and His resurrection after death. They knew His mean- 
ing very well, as was shown later by their request to 
Pilate for a guard to be placed over His grave. 

But they must try Him, and they must convict Him 
any way, deeply distressed that they dared not spill His 
blood on the spot and without any form of trial. The 
habit of law was on them, and they must observe legal 
forms in their murder of Jesus, both to deceive the Jew- 
ish people and to be in a position to say to Pontius Pilate : 
"According to our law He ought to die." Jesus suffered 
no small grief to witness the venerable forms of Hebrew 
justice used as a cloak for the worst possible outrage 
upon its principles and upon the only-begotten Son of its 
very author. 

They had many witnesses, all false; and, being com- 
monplace villains, their perjury was more manifest than 
even that of their masters. Jesus heard Himself accused 



The Judges y the Witnesses, the Evidence, 97 

of blasphemy, heresy, sedition. Did He cross-question 
the witnesses ? It is quite certain that He did not, would 
not be permitted, would not wish to do so. Nor was it 
necessary, for their evidence was to that degree false that 
it was self-contradictory. 

As before this court, so before the others, Jesus saw 
every rule of justice violated. Not only was the evidence 
of brutish liars admitted against Him, the very soul of 
truth and absolutely guiltless, but no time was given Him 
to prepare His defence, nor counsel to conduct it, nor 
freedom to address the court. Yet meanwhile He knew 
Himself to be every sinner's advocate in His Father's 
court, and in His inmost heart He now steadfastly pur- 
posed to plead for the pardon of these same cruelly unjust 
judges in the very throes of His approaching death. 

How different His Father's court from theirs. How 
the divine Judge is loathe to arraign the sinner, sending 
him a thousand warnings beforehand. Secret inspirations 
of grace beset his soul in every quiet hour, every devout 
friend is a messenger from God, warning him and im- 
ploring him to be reconciled, and pointing to the only- 
begotten Son of God, condemned and executed for his 
salvation, as his certain pledge of pardon if he will but be 
saved. Our Redeemer, true to this divine spirit of lenity, 
will shortly remind these, His very persecutors, of the 
judgment that awaits them if they do not repent. 

Besides the contrast between God's justice and that 
of the Jewish judges, our Lord's trial teaches us the ad- 
mirable virtue of openness and frankness in our dealings 
with men, even with the most perverse, nay, when faced 
by our worst enemies. "I have spoken openly to the 
world, and in secret I have spoken nothing." Indeed, O 



98 Jesus in the Power of the High Priests. 

Lord Jesus, Thou hast ever been the soul of candor. Thou 
dost abhor an intriguing spirit, with its whispered confer- 
ences and its confidential disclosures of other's faults. 
"Let your speech be yea, yea; nay, nay" (Matt. v. 
37), is Thy command, and Thy practice is a perfect model 
of how to observe it. Blessed be that disciple who can 
say with Thee that his spoken words are always the very 
same as his secret thoughts. 

And in this connection we thank our Savior for the 
sacrament of penance, His chosen court of pardon. That 
is the one only place in this double-dealing world in 
which entire frankness is secured ; and it is rewarded with 
the sevenfold gifts of the Holy Ghost. There the win- 
dows of my soul are by my own free hand flung wide 
open, and broad daylight is let in, and even the most se- 
cret chambers of my very thoughts are placed under in- 
spection. God's light and love are the reward of my 
truthfulness in a trial in which I am both the culprit and 
the accusing witness. 



Chapter VII. 

Jesus is Condemned to Death by the Chief Priests. 

And the high priest said to Him: I adjure Thee by the living 
God that Thou tell us, if Thou be the Christ, the Son of God. 
Jesus saith to Him: Thou hast said it. I am. Nevertheless, I 
say to you, hereafter you shall see the Son of Man sitting on 
the right hand of the power of God, and coming in the clouds 
of heaven. Then the high priest rent his garments, saymg: He 
hath blasphemed; what further need have we of witnesses? Be- 
hold, now you have heard the blasphemy; what think you? But 
they all answering, said: He is guilty of death. And when 
morning was come, all the chief priests and ancients of the 
people took council against Jesus, that they might put Him to 
death. And they brought Him into their council, saying: If 
Thou be the Christ, tell us. And He saith to them: If I shall 
tell you, you will not believe Me, and if I shall also ask you, you 
will not answer Me, nor let Me go. But hereafter the Son of 
Man shall be sitting on the right hand of the power of God. 
Then said they all: Art Thou then the Son of God? Who said: 
You say that I am. And they said : What need we any further 
testimony? For we ourselves have heard it from His own mouth 
(Matt. xxvi. 63-66, and xxvii. 1 ; Mark xiv. 61-64, and xv. 1 ; 
Luke xxii. 66-71). 

The chief priests had failed to force Jesus to convict 
Himself by avowing His doctrines. Left to their legal 
shifts they had failed, They succeeded, however, and 
that without difficulty, in drawing from Him a plain 
affirmation that He was the Christ, that is to say, the 
Jewish Messias, and the Son of God. To extort a con- 
fession from their prisoner, with a view to His condemna- 
tion, was base tyranny. Jesus, however, was willing to 

LOFC. 



ioo Jesus in the Power of the High Priests, 

be thus convicted, but only after they gave over their 
attempt to condemn Him by regular process of evidence, 
and had thereby tacitly acknowledged their failure. He 
would now freely go to His death for claiming to be the 
anointed of the Lord and the Son of the Eternal Father. 
He foresaw, besides, that in the earlier centuries of His 
Church, millions of martyrs would offer up their lives to 
witness that He was the living and true God ; He would 
gladly lead the way to martyrdom. In proclaiming His 
divinity in that court, He felt that He addressed the 
whole people of Israel, for these were their judges and 
their priests. When, therefore, Caiaphas exclaimed : "I 
adjure Thee by the living God, that Thou tell us if Thou 
be the Christ, the Son of God," He answered instantly: 
"Thou hast said it. I am." 

Thereby did Jesus choose, at the expense of His life, 
to honor His Father, in whose adorable name He had 
been questioned, rather than delay the fate reserved for 
Him by continuing to remain silent. His claim of the 
divine Sonship was what His enemies hated most fiercely. 
Even if understood only figuratively, it was the assump- 
tion of sovereign majesty over all Israel, over all nations. 
But they knew full well that He claimed to be not figura- 
tively but literally the Son of God, the only-begotten of 
the Father, of one and the same nature with Jehovah 
Himself. They had more than once accused Him that He 
said : "God was His Father, making Himself equal to 
God" (John v. 18). Jesus, knowing all this, now pleaded 
guilty to their most serious accusation, and He did so 
without the slightest hesitation; He proclaimed Himself 
the Son of God and the anointed King of Israel. 

And He drove it home; He followed it up by citing 



Jesus Condemned by the Chief Priests. ioi 

them before His own judgment seat at the last day: 
"Nevertheless, I say to you, hereafter you shall see the 
Son of Man sitting on the right hand of the power of God, 
and coming in the clouds of heaven." His expression 
"nevertheless" means this : Although I am your fettered 
prisoner now, and you, murderers in your hearts, now 
sit in judgment on Me, yet in spite of My present help- 
lessness, nay, by very reason of this degradation and the 
doom that is to follow it, the day will come when our 
places shall be reversed. You shall see Me, in the midst 
of the heavens, descending from the divine throne itself, 
God and Man, to judge you in justice who now judge 
Me in iniquity. These are terrible words; but we know 
that in thus threatening these miserable men His purpose 
was merciful — it was to honor His Father, indeed, but 
also to save these dreadful sinners by arousing in their 
souls the fear of the divine judgment which was sure to 
overtake them. 

Then Caiaphas rent his garments, a Hebrew token of 
horror and grief. He rent his outer garments; he had 
long since torn to shreds his priestly virtue, his judicial 
honor. He rent his clothes theatrically, to call off atten- 
tion from the majestic Being standing before him, and 
from His most startling claim to divine power, lest any 
member of the court might weaken in his fidelity to their 
plot. And as he rends his garments Caiaphas throws off 
all shame and openly discards even his former transparent 
pretence to be judge, and openly assumes the part of 
prosecutor: "He hath blasphemed, what further need 
have we of witnesses? Behold you have heard the blas- 
phemy, what think you?" But they all answering, said: 
"He is guilty of death." 



102 Jesus in the Power of the High Priests. 

And Jesus in His inmost soul echoed that sentence: 
[ am guilty of death. I have blasphemed ; for those whom 
I love have done it by a thousand different forms of 
grievous sin, and love has made Me one with them, each 
and all. Their sins have become Mine for expiation. 
For their sakes I am guilty of death. 

Thus Jesus assumed our sins and accepted their pen- 
alty; not resenting the high priests' sentence, but gladly 
accepting it, and including him and all his hideous asso- 
ciates in His all-embracing pity. Throughout this 
dreadful ordeal, suffering as He did from fiercest hatred 
and blind fury, from contemptible cowardice and brazen 
falsehood — through it all our Redeemer's love for every 
one of them but grew more intense as their malice grew 
more venomous. 

Death is a terrible word. But, as Caiaphas shouted 
it, it lit up the darkened soul of Jesus with a bright ray 
of light, for His death meant life eternal to those He 
loved so devotedly. This most Holy One, being the 
brightness of God's glory and the figure of His substance 
CHeb. i. 3), had taken on Himself to atone for our sins. 
"Now the wages of sin is death" (Rom. vi. 23). This 
was why He submitted that night and the next day to 
be condemned to death by all of earth's tribunals. As 
each one of them, either from malice or cowardice, ad- 
judged Him guilty, the high court of hell resounded with 
their echo : He is guilty of death ! Crucify Him ! Crucify 
Him ! Thus the world and its votaries, hell and its devils, 
judged and condemned Jesus to death, Himself the su- 
preme and only arbiter of life and death. 

O Redeemer of my soul! I ought to take Thy place 
before these unjust tribunals, unjust for Thee, entirely 



Jesus Condemned by the Chief Priests, 103 

just for me. And if Thou hast exempted me from trial 
and condemnation, by becoming my substitute, at least 
let me be humbled by the spectacle of Thy misfortunes, 
borne so patiently for my sake. Let me be spiritually en- 
lightened by Thy words, Thy silence and Thy submis- 
sion, so that, instructed in the sovereign virtues of meek- 
ness before men and resignation to God's will,. I may 
merit a favorable sentence in Thy court. O Jesus, how 
much reason have I not to thank Thee, that Thou alone 
art my judge, and that the law by which Thou art bound 
to sentence me, instead of being strict justice, is unlimited 
mercy. I thank Thee, that Thou, the only perfectly just 
judge, art the one who is perfectly merciful, if I will but 
seek Thy tribunal now with a humble and contrite heart. 



Chapter VIII. 
Peter's Denial. 

And Simon Peter followed Jesus afar off to the high priest's 
palace, and so did another disciple. And that disciple was known 
to the high priest, and went in with Jesus into the court of the 
high priest. But Peter stood at the door without. The other 
disciple, therefore, who was known to the high priest, went out 
and spoke to the portress, and brought in Peter. And going in 
he sat with the servants to see the end. And the maid that was 
portress saith to Peter: Art not thou also one of this Man's 
disciples? He saith: I am not. Now the servants and officers 
stood at a fire of coals, because it was cold, and warmed them- 
selves; and with them was Peter also standing and warming 
himself. And there came to him a servant-majd of the high 
priest; and when she had seen Peter warming himself, and had 
earnestly beheld him, she said: Thou also was with Jesus of 
Nazareth, the Galilean. But he denied before them all, saying: 
Woman, I know Him not: I neither know nor understand what 
thou sayest. And he went forth before the court, and the cock 
crew. And as he went out of the gate, another maid saw him, 
and she saith to the standers-by: This man also was with Jesus 
of Nazareth. And again he denied with an oath, that: I know 
not the Man. And another seeing him, said therefore to him: 
Art not thou also one of His disciples ? He denied it, and said : 
O man, I am not. And after the space, as it were, of one hour, 
one of the servants of the high priest, a kinsman to him whose 
ear Peter cut off, saith to him : Did not I see thee in the Garden 
with Him? Again, therefore, Peter denied: Man, I know not 
what thou sayest. And they came that stood by, and said again 
to Peter: Surely thou art one of them, for thou art also a Gali- 
lean; even thy speech doth discover thee. Then he began to 
curse and swear, saying: I know not this Man of whom you 
speak. And immediately the cock crew again (Matt. xxvi. 58, 
69-74; Mark xiv. 54, 66-71; Luke xxii. 54-61; John xviii. 15-18, 
25-27). 



Peter's Denial. 105 

While Jesus was being tried and condemned inside the 
high priest's house, a most deplorable scene was enacted 
without. Peter was denying his Master. That Jesus 
knew of this overwhelming calamity to Him and His 
cause is certain, but whether by its being cast up to Him 
by His judges, or by supernatural means, we cannot tell. 

The origin of the disciple's fall was curiosity and self- 
conceit. These traits were stronger in Peter than obedi- 
ence and humility. 

How earnestly had Jesus directed them all to fly 
from the scene of His trial before the chief priests ; how 
plainly had he forewarned Peter of his weakness. But 
that disciple was devoured with curiosity to "see the 
end," and puffed up with incredible self-confidence, a 
defect inherent in his nature. 

Of course we are inclined to palliate Peter's fault, but 
hardly any event in the passion of Jesus cut Him deeper 
than this. We may, however, surmise with regard to 
his first denial, that Peter would try to persuade himself 
that it was no worse than a common lie, told for a laud- 
able purpose, since he thought he had a right to "see the 
end." He would say to himself: She ("the maid that 
was portress") has no right to know who I am; and, 
anyway, she only half suspects me; besides, this con- 
versation is all alone with her — no danger of scandal; 
and I ought to "see the end," anyhow. O how fatal are 
the workings of a tricky conscience. For presently he 
denies his Lord again, and now before many servants 
and officials and in response to a more downright ac- 
cusation of discipleship. Finally, with cursing and 
swearing he proclaims (it must have been in a loud 
voice) : "I know not the Man!" Now, indeed, he has 



106 Jesus in the Power of the High Priests. 

seen the znd; this is the end and the total downfall of 
Peter's pride, the end and the perfection and the worst 
of all the evil that the Lord's friends ever did to pain Him 
after Judas had betrayed Him.* 

Like any other sinner, Peter, having fallen once, 
thought it no great matter to fall again, and then a third 
time. But the two last denials were rather a series of 
more and more emphatic infidelities than separate 
offences; only that his perjury stains his guilt a deeper 
dye. We may attribute his starting away after his sec- 
ond denial to the alarm of his conscience at the sound of 
the crowing of the cock. But "as he was going out of 
the gate" he was caught again. Another maid-servant 
(how keen the eyes of those women in that dimly lighted 
court) recognized him and accosted him. Her words 
threw our poor Apostle into a coward's panic. And then 
he actually swore an oath — he must have shouted it out 
in his excitement — that he did not so much as know 
Jesus. 

This drew, it would seem, much more general atten- 
tion to him; and it appears that the officers and attend- 
ants exchanged views among themselves about Peter 
and his repudiation of even acquaintance with Jesus. He, 
meanwhile, thought that his oath had secured him from 
further annoyance, and so the unfortunate Apostle re- 
turned again from the gate, and lingered in the throng 
for "the space as it were of an hour." Then he was in- 
terrogated again, very pointedly, too, and by several dif- 

*We may notice in passing that here is the nearest approach to any 
women being against Jesus throughout His passion — these two maid-ser- 
vants questioning Peter. They occasioned the deep wound Peter inflicted 
on his Master; but it is not at all clear that they meant to do so. It is 
quite fair to suppose that they were really on our Redeemer's side, or at 
worst indifferent and simply curious. 



Peter's Denial. 107 

ferent persons, all accusing him of having been seen in 
the Garden of Olives with Jesus, and calling attention to 
his Galilean accent. Peter is now fairly at bay, and 
dreads immediate arrest. He saves himself by a torrent 
of perjury and poltroonery. "He then began to curse and 
to swear, saying: I know not this Man of whom you 
speak. And immediately the cock crew again." 

St. Bede moralizes upon this sad occurrence as fol- 
lows : "How hurtful is converse with the wicked ! Peter 
amongst the servants of the high priest said he knew not 
the Man, though among the disciples he confessed Him 
to be God." 

Besides increasing our Savior's weight of sorrow, 
the effects of Peter's denial were doubtless very injurious 
upon the whole situation. What must the chief priests 
have said when they learned of it ? This, perhaps : Let 
us push right on to the death of the wretch ; His closest 
friends have abandoned Him; we are safe, we can go to 
any extreme. What must have been the heart weakening 
of the multitude of Christ's wavering adherents, as the 
news is spread everywhere that His Apostles have de- 
clared against Him? Their leader and spokesman, in 
company with John, His favorite disciple, has renounced 
and repudiated Him openly at the high priest's house; 
and everybody knows that He was delivered up by an- 
other Apostle, His very treasurer. All this will add 
nerve to the activity of the conspirators Friday forenoon 
in pleading before Pilate, and also in managing the mul- 
titude. 

And Jesus? Deserted, abandoned, forsaken, alone 
among My enemies. But yet I have a heart for My poor 
Apostle, and I have a loving purpose to save him. 



Chapter IX. 
Peter's Repentance and Pardon. 

And the Lord, turning, looked on Peter. And Peter remem- 
bered the word that Jesus had said unto him : Before the cock 
crow twice thou shalt deny Me thrice. And going forth he wept 
bitterly (Matt. xxvi. 75; Mark xiv. 72; Luke xxii. 61, 62). 

If Peter's fall is lamentable, his conversion is most 
consoling; and it was immediate. Our Savior did not 
give him time to argue out his own guilt, lest he should 
despair. Jesus wept for His disciple before His disciple 
wept for himself, and made haste to save him. "Christ*," 
says Cornelius a Lapide, "seems to have been brought 
down to the outer hall, which was below, and where 
Peter was. And there, turning to him and smiting him 
with His gracious look, He recalled him to Himself." Or 
it was through some window that Jesus looked at him, 
as He passed along, or from some balcony. He stopped 
a brief instant and turned ; Master and disciple saw each 
other in the light of the lamps and torches. Their eyes 
met and their hearts met. The tears in the Master's 
eyes opened the fountains of Peter's grief. 

Or perhaps it was a closer meeting. Whilst Peter 
stood abashed and cowed in the courtyard, hanging his 
head and not daring to look into the faces around him, 
some of them full of threatening and others showing 



Peter's Repentance and Pardon, 109 

contempt, presently there is a stir, and then the souno 
of many footsteps — Jesus is being led from one part of 
the building to another, and Peter sees by the light of the 
fire another face looking at him from amid the passing 
group of soldiers. It is a face too well known to him. 
Not a word is said ; only looks are exchanged. What sad- 
ness in the look of Jesus, what reproach, and yet what 
compassion. Jesus is utterly silent; but more startling 
than a thunderclap to Peter's soul is the look of his 
Master, calling him instantly back to his allegiance, 
melting his very soul into penitential tears. 

St. Leo says : "The Lord, though exposed to the 
revilings of the priests, the falsehood of the witnesses 
and the insults of those who smote and spat upon Him, 
looked upon Peter." And he adds that Jesus seemed to 
forget His own fate and to be trembling for that of 
Peter. He forgot everything but His Apostle. The 
awful court, the scowling faces, the sentence of death, all 
vanished away in His pity for Peter. 

O, good Jesus, how sad was Thy plight when Thou 
wast passing out from Thy trial before the council. But 
Thou didst forget the blow they struck Thee, the yet 
more cruel blows of Thy enemies' tongues, Thy dread of 
what was coming upon Thee; turning, Thou didst save 
Peter with an affectionate glance — turning away from 
Thine to his misfortune, mindful of him, forgetful of 
Thyself. 

Jesus would be insensible even to the flames and the 
demons of the pit of darkness in His anxiety to save any 
soul from despair, but especially Peter's. And from 
despair that one look of his Master saved Peter. Judas 
would not be saved by many affectionate and forgiving 



no Jesus in the Power of the High Priests. 

looks, the washing of his feet, the loving embrace and 
kiss, and the tenderest words of entreaty ever uttered. 
A single look was given to Peter, "and going forth, he 
wept bitterly/' Bitterly indeed; for the woe and dis- 
figurement of his Master's face increased tenfold the 
bitter pain of the holy wound which that look cut in his 
heart. 

Peter's repentance was the first fruit of our Redeem- 
er's atoning passion. And it was true and permanent 
repentance. He had now seen "the end" — the end of 
pride. Boasting himself a man of undaunted courage, 
and overflowing with self-confidence, when called on to 
own Christ as his Master, he blenched before maid-ser- 
vants and other menials. He will never again be boast- 
ful, but full of self-distrust and self-contempt, and there- 
fore of true Christian courage.* 

This one look of Jesus was the only reproof that 
Peter ever got. Herein is seen how perfectly Jesus for- 
gives, and with what a measure of love heaped up and 
flowing over. After His resurrection He never so much 
as hinted to Peter, least of all to any one else, that He 
retained any remembrance of his fall; Jesus acted as 
if it had never happened. He showed Himself in His 
glory to Peter the first of all the Apostles, and He con- 
firmed him in his Apostolic primacy with much solemnity, 
eliciting for its foundation Peter's thrice given offering 
of love. 

We feel peculiar joy in this our Master's tender pity, 
and it cures our soreness of heart at the Apostle's shame- 

*Notice that St. Mark in his Gospel does not hide Peter's fall, though 
when he wrote it he was that Apostle's close disciple. This is because his 
Gospel was Peter's own, as is most probable, and gave him the opportunity 
of public confession, a privilege highly valued by all heroic penitents. 



Peter s Repentance and Pardon. 1 1 1 

ful unfaithfulness. And let us for our comfort compare 
Peter, shrinking and trembling before maid-servants at 
the name of Jesus, and Peter after his conversion, boldly 
professing Jesus at the hazard of his life, and defying for 
His sake Caiaphas and the whole council of the Jews 
(Acts iv. s). 

Some mitigation of Peter's crime is found in the fact 
that the Lord chose His Apostles from the mass of man- 
kind, as it were at haphazard, selecting from among us 
genuine specimens of our common frailty. See the glory 
of His transforming grace. After He has done His work 
upon them, He returns them to us, and with them leavens 
the whole lump of our humanity with a new creation of 
loyalty to God and compassion for sinful man. 

Another mitigation is Peter's lack of support from 
his comrade Apostle, namely John, for it is commonly 
agreed that he was the other disciple with Peter in Caia- 
phas' court. He did not, it is true, join Peter in his 
craven act ; that much is to his credit. But he stood by 
and said nothing; and that is dreadfully to his disgrace. 
Was he not half as guilty as Peter ? Must not the maid- 
servants, and after them the many officers and attend- 
ants, have looked also at John as they interrogated and 
accused Peter? Did not John's silence give consent? 
O John, where is thy tongue of faith, where is thy heart 
of love ? Where is thy pity for a sorely tempted brother ? 
Hidden and silent now r is that faith which will one day 
amaze the world. Peter denied and John did not reprove 
him. "The disciple whom Jesus loved" played a timid 
part that night, a mournful accompaniment to the harsh 
notes of Peter's outright unfaithfulness. When Jesus 
passed and looked at Peter, John had his share of the 



112 Jesus in the Power of the High Priests. 

reproach and of the pardon, and going out with Peter, 
doubtless shared in his bitter weeping. 

We must also say in Peter's favor that his faith did 
not fail. Christ had secured him in the supper-room 
against that direst of evils : "I have prayed for thee that 
thy faith fail not" (Luke xxii. 32). He still kept a sad 
but precious remnant of Christian character, faith with- 
out love, that is, without love enough to confess his 
Master in the face of his enemies. 

Furthermore, his fall was gradual, the act of an un- 
wary and not a perverse man; he fell from lesser faults 
into greater. First, he contradicted Jesus at the last sup- 
per, did it with impertinence, and obstinately continued 
to do it. Second, he arrogantly and boastfully set him- 
self above his fellows. It was with this evil preparation 
that he rushed into danger. O God! how truly doth 
pride go before a fall (Prov. xvi. 18). Who that con- 
tradicts his betters, who that plumes himself over his 
brethren, shall hope to be safeguarded against danger ? 

And so it was that Jesus saved Peter by a loving, 
reproachful and forgiving glance. A kind look seems 
no great gift; a hateful one no serious hurt. But one 
can often express more love or malice by a single look 
than by a book full of words. And kind looks are often 
an alms of priceless worth, especially to suffering souls, 
and above all to guilty ones. May God grant me the 
grace to receive kind looks from good men, telling me of 
kind thoughts, followed by kind words, and then by kind 
deeds, in all my hours of peril and distress, of weakness 
and of guilt. 

"Look on us, O Lord Jesus," says St. Ambrose, "that 
we may bewail our sins and wash away our guilt with 



Peter s Repentance and Pardon. 1 1 j 

our tears." How many times, O Lord, dost Thou look 
on men and immediately their souls remember Thy sor- 
rows and they begin to lament their sins. Tears of con- 
trition and amendment follow Thy reproachful looks, 
which are Thy inward inspirations of the grace of re- 
pentance. Philip had said to Thee: "Lord, show us the 
Father, and it is enough for us" (John xiv. 8), Not so 
do we ask; but rather with the royal penitent we beg 
Thee to cause the light of Thy "countenance to shine upon 
us and have mercy on us" (Ps. lxvi. 2). In the very 
midst of the vilest cowardice, O Jesus, Thy loving glance 
will make heroes of us as it did of Peter, 



Chapter X. 
Jesus is Mocked. 

And the men that held Him, mocked Him and struck Him. 
Then did they spit in His face and buffeted Him. And they 
blindfolded Him, and smote His face with the palms of their 
hands, saying: Prophesy to us, Christ! Who is he that struck 
Thee? And blaspheming, many other things they said against 
Him (Matt. xxvi. 67, 68; Mark xiv. 65; Luke xxii. 63-65). 

The chief priests had done their worst against Jesus 
for the moment. They then turned Him over to their 
servants to be maltreated during the remaining hours of 
the night, while they refreshed their nerves by sleep, 
dreaming sweet dreams of anticipation of the day's work 
before them. Jesus knew why they gave Him up to the 
common herd of ruffians; it was that He might suffer a 
sort of indignities they themselves would be ashamed to 
inflict. Our Redeemer willingly yielded Himself into the 
power of the base rabble of menials and hangers-on 
about the house and court of Caiaphas. He was per- 
fectly well aware that cruelty is the very sport of such 
men, and beating men in the face, spitting upon them, 
kicking them, is their keenest enjoyment. Doing such 
things to Jesus was a treat to them, especially as they 
knew that such was the will of their masters. As kind 
natures enjoy nursing the sick, so do vile natures enjoy 
beating their fellow-men and spitting in their faces. And 
these wretches hated Jesus because He was gentle and 
affectionate, and therefore a reproach to them. It pleased 
them greatly to have Him totally given up to them. 



Jesus is Mocked. 1 1 5 

And He was entirely resigned to have this lowest class 
of men do their will upon Him that night, for to Him 
the lowest of mankind are the dearest, and the most fitting 
atonement for their sins would be enduring their mal- 
treatment. What virtue did He not practice for them 
and for us that last night of His gentle life ? How patient 
He is, how constant and forgiving, how humble and sub- 
missive. What place can pride have in the life of any 
one whose religion gives him Christ for a pattern. How 
changed are one's views of what is honor among men 
after meditating on what Christ suffered over night be- 
tween Holy Thursday and Good Friday? This explains 
why the martyrs coveted chains and racks as badges of 
honor, and before them the Apostles of Jesus "went forth 
from the council rejoicing at being reputed worthy to 
suffer reproach for the name of Christ" (Acts v. 41). 

Hence, it was both as our Redeemer and as our model 
that Jesus gave Himself up to these pitiless men, that 
they might mock Him, spit in His face, strike Him with 
their fists, and do and say all kinds of foul things to Him. 
"We have seen Him despised," says the prophet, "and 
His look as it were hidden and despised" (Isaias liii. 2). 
Hidden, indeed; for they blindfolded Jesus during 
part of the time they were beating Him. This was a more 
ingenious sort of cruelty. For He struck back at them 
with His patient eyes, and every submissive look made 
them feel uneasy. Now He cannot hurt them by re- 
turning kind looks for foul blows ; He can only pray for 
them. He suddenly feels the blow, it is received in the 
dark; and this gives a sharper pain to every rude stroke 
of their fists — darkened in His suffering, alone and help- 
less. 



1 1 6 Jesus in the Power of the High Priests. 

But they were careful not to stop His ears. They 
would have him hear the words, fit words to accompany 
their deeds, the proper speech of such men. They smote 
His very soul with curses, blasphemies, obscenities, es- 
pecially mocking at His claim to be a prophet. This 
was their chief reason for blindfolding Him; as if to 
say. A rare rogue is this, Jesus, the sham prophet; let 
us make Him show His powers. And then they struck 
His blindfolded face, and roared in his ears : "Prophesy 
to us, O Christ, who it is that struck Thee." Imagine the 
dreadful words they used, coupled with His holy name, 
a name so dear to every aching heart ; imagine their yells 
of derisive laughter as His blindfolded face quivered un- 
der their blows ; imagine the looks and the expression of 
their animal faces. 

"Then did they spit in His face." We suppose that 
they began spitting in His face only after removing the 
bandage from His eyes. Think what they then did to 
that face of divine sweetness and dignity on which "the 
angels desire to look" (I. Peter i. 12). The Psalmist 
implores the Lord : "Show us Thy face, O Lord, and we 
shall be saved" (lxxix. 4). Show us Thy face, said our 
Redeemer's tormentors, as they undid the bandage ; show 
us Thy face, and we shall spit in it. And His face was 
soon covered with their loathsome spittle. 

Jesus suffered indescribable shame from this un- 
equalled brutality, but He felt no horror for the mis- 
creants themselves; no, not even the least aversion. On 
the contrary, they were nearer His heart at that moment 
than any sinners that ever lived. They were typical sin- 
ners. He must have thought: This is the kind of men 
that need My best love. These are the ones I would pre- 



Jesus is Mocked. 117 

fer to save rather than any others. Father, forgive these 
deluded creatures, especially the ones among them more 
malicious, less excusable. We cannot help thinking that 
many a one of this poor rabble, if not every one of them, 
was brought sooner or later to repentance and died a 
happy death. The greater joy of the angels and of Christ, 
their King, is the repentance of sinners. Shall. there be 
no joy in earning these sinners the necessary graces for 
repentance? Yet if joy can be had in being spit upon, 
it must be mingled with an ocean of pain; for it is not 
joy but pain that atones for sin. And not joy but oain is 
felt in being spit upon. 

Among the wretches, hirelings of an intriguing and 
apostate priesthood, were certainly all sorts of criminals. 
To our Lord the life of every one of them was fully re- 
vealed in all its foulness, and His soul pitied them with in- 
describable tenderness, as each took his turn in the mock- 
ings and beatings and spittings of that dreadful night. 
Surely never did a sick child love its mother for her 
kisses and caresses as tenderly as Jesus loved those men — 
yea, and loved all of us sinners in their persons, knowing 
as He did that they were our proxies in their awful work. 

Contempt reaches its perfect expression in spitting in 
another's face; and, of course, the sense of ill-treatment 
is keenest on the part of one who suffers this indignity. 
That this infliction ranked high among our Redeemer's 
sufferings, not only as we see them but as He felt them, 
is shown by His having expressly named it in His 
prophecy of the end : "The Son of Man shall be mocked 
and scourged and spit upon" (Luke xviii. 32). His 
meekness and goodness received this grossest of insults 
with entire willingness. "I have not turned away My 



n8 Jesus in the Power of the High Priests. 

face from them that rebuked Me and spit upon Me" 
(Isaias 1. 6). 

Now, O Jesus, dost Thou begin to suffer from with- 
out a pain almost equal to what Thou didst feel within, 
when Thou didst begin "to fear and to be heavy" in the 
Garden. Then Thou didst see and feel interiorly our 
sins, all typified by monstrous demons, as Thou wast de- 
livered up to their cruelty. Now living men have taken 
the place of demons, and they prove to be their worthy 
rivals in tormenting Thee. 

Staying over night beside a sick bed and watching 
with a dear friend is called a labor of love. Here were 
the later and quieter hours of our Redeemer's last night, 
spent by His enemies watching with Him, a labor of hate. 
Between three and four hours must thus have been passed, 
when the first rays of the daylight ended this and opened 
another period of His sufferings. How dreadful was the 
change in His appearance. Remember Him in the sup- 
per-room among His chosen friends, discoursing with 
them after the sacred banquet. How beautiful is His 
face, how grave and yet how irresistibly attractive ; how 
benignant His glance, how sweet His words as He ad- 
dresses them, His loved ones. And now behold that 
same countenance. His looks are just as affectionate, 
and these wretches are also His loved ones. But see the 
swollen and livid spots, His eyes blackened and blood- 
shot, brimming over with tears. Hard hearts they must 
have had to look unmoved into that face as they unbound 
His eyes. Unmoved? It was just then, if we have judged 
correctly, that they began to spit upon His face, that being 
the last part of their mockery of Him. 

Bear in mind that all was suffered by Jesus for two 



Jesus is Mocked, 119 

ends exclusively: One, to offer to the offended majesty 
of God a full atonement for our sins ; the other, to teach 
us what we ought to think of our sins. God has accepted 
the atonement. But have we learned our lesson? Jesus 
suffered thus at the hands of men lest we should undergo 
worse at the hands of demons. And He suffered it from 
our partners in guilt. These men are of the same race 
and family with me. Their motives are identical — wilful 
disregard of God's rights — only more lamentably shown 
than my own. Mortal contempt of God's honor inspires 
every one of their dreadful deeds, as it does my own 
more artfully managed and more secret offences. My 
vices place me on a footing of equality with them; onl^ 
they are eager to display their wickedness, while I am 
ingenious to conceal mine. They blindfolded Him, not 
to hide their sinfulness from Him, but to increase His 
pain, as they cursed Him, struck Him and plucked His 
beard. I would veil His face if I could, that He might 
never know my evil deeds — the very offences that made 
Him willing to suffer every blow and every affront from 
Caiaphas' underlings. 

One comfort is this : Our repentance for our sins, 
and our sympathy for Jesus' sufferings, though we be 
so far removed in time and space, were foreknown by 
Him, and were as welcome to Him then as if we had 
been present and had mourned with Him on _the spot. 
Another solace, both to Him then and to us now, is that 
after His resurrection the beauty of His face was all the 
more resplendent on account of its disfigurement in 
Caiaphas' prison; just as the marks of the nails and of 
the spear are now the most glorious adornment of His 
heavenly body. 



120 Jesus in the Power of the High Priests. 

The thought of Jesus in bonds reproaches me for the 
misuse I have made of my liberty. In giving me my own 
liberty God overtrusted me. I betrayed His trust, and 
hence the Lord was constrained by His love for me to 
be deprived of His own freedom. He dared not, He 
could not stir hand or foot. He was fettered and watched 
as if He were a tiger ready to spring at men's throats; 
and then He was maltreated as if He were a captive 
demon. Alas, how often have I been so weak as to be 
sure to turn against my Redeemer at the first moment of 
freedom. And is there ever a moment in which I am 
really worthy to be trusted? At my best, the words of 
the Apostle are very applicable to me : "He that thinketh 
himself to stand, let him take heed lest he fall" (I. Cor. 
x. 12). 



Chapter XL 
The Fate of Judas. 

Then Judas, who betrayed Him, seeing that He was con- 
demned, repenting himself, brought back the thirty pieces of 
silver to the chief priests and ancients, saying: I have sinned in 
betraying innocent blood. But they said: What is that to us? 
Look thou to it. And casting down the pieces of silver in the 
temple, he departed, and went and hanged himself with a halter. 
But the chief priests having taken the pieces of silver, said: It 
is not lawful to put them into the Corbona, because it is the price 
of blood. And after they had consulted together, they bought 
with them the potter's field, to be a burying-place for strangers. 
Wherefore that field was called Haceldama, that is, The Field 
of Blood, even to this day. Then was fulfilled that which was 
spoken by Jeremias the Prophet, saying: And they took the 
thirty pieces of silver, the price of Him that was prized, whom 
they prized of the children of Israel. And they gave them unto 
the potter's field as the Lord appointed to me (Matt, xxvii. 3-10). 

In those days, Peter, rising up in the midst of the brethren, 
said: . . . Men, brethren, the scripture must needs be ful- 
filled, which the Holy Ghost spoke before by the mouth of David 
concerning Judas, who was the leader of them that apprehended 
Jesus; who was numbered with us, and obtained part of this 
ministry. And he indeed hath possessed a field of the reward of 
iniquity, and being hanged burst asunder in the midst, and all 
his bowels gushed out. And it became known to all the inhabi- 
tants of Jerusalem, so that the same field was called in their 
tongue, Haceldama, that is to say, the field of blood. For it is 
written in the book of Psalms : Let their habitation become deso- 
late, and let there be none to dwell therein. And his bishopric 
let another take. [And they chose Matthias] to take the place 
of this ministry and apostleship, from which Judas hath by 
trangression fallen, that he might go to his own place (Acts of 
the Apostles i. 16-25). 



122 Jesus in the Power of the High Priests. 

And now, before passing with our Redeemer from 
the custody of the Jews into that of the Romans, let us 
conclude the history of His betrayer, Judas Iscariot. 

"Then Judas, seeing that He was condemned, repent- 
ing himself, brought back the thirty pieces of silver to the 
chief priests." Unhappy wretch ! Perhaps his greed had 
so far blinded him that he had hoped Christ would, some- 
how or other, manage not to be condemned, would per- 
haps release Himself miraculously. When he heard of 
the condemnation of his victim he fell into despair. The 
depth of his despair is shown by the fact that, with all 
his avarice, he loosened his grip and delivered up the 
blood money. And then he confessed his crime to his 
partners in the ruin of Jesus : "I have sinned in betray- 
ing innocent blood." From the answer he got, "What 
is that to us?" we infer that he hoped (what a frantic 
hope it was!) that his return of the money might yet 
save Jesus. After his accomplices refused it with loath- 
ing, Judas cast the money into the sanctuary of the 
temple, as if he would thereby force the priests to take 
it back; at any rate, he must be rid of it. His act was 
observed; but the officials would not apply the money to 
the uses of the temple, because it was "the price of blood." 

"What hypocrisy!" says Cornelius a Lapide. "They^ 
suffer not the price of Christ's blood to be paid into the 
treasury, whereas they had taken money out of it to 
procure His betrayal and death." The money Judas had 
so eagerly sought after now literally goes a-begging, and 
assists a beautiful charity, for it helps the purchase of "a 
burying place for strangers." How strangely does the 
blood of Christ work good to the dead after it has been 
an object of base traffic among the living. 



The Fate of Judas, 123 

Judas then went out and hanged himself, his suicide 
happening probably the very afternoon, certainly the same 
day, as our Redeemer's crucifixion. 

The dreadful consequences following a man's sins are 
calculated to make him the sooner repent. But in Judas' 
case, when he realized what was to result from his be- 
trayal of Jesus, instead of repenting, he despaired. Why 
did he not remember the goodness of Jesus to sinners, 
His patience even with himself? Why did he not recall 
that the Master had not expelled him from the apostle- 
ship, nor refused to wash his feet, nor denied him the 
kiss of peace in return for the kiss of hate ? How could 
he think, how dared he think, that Jesus would not for- 
give him? But in the heart of Judas avarice found a 
faithful ally in pride. When the traitor sickened of love 
of money, a peculiar kind of self-love took possession of 
him. Judas had rated his Master's life at thirty pieces 
of silver, and now he rates his own power of wickedness 
higher than the Redeemer's power of pardoning. 

It was fitting that such a monster should be his own 
executioner. He says in effect : My malice in sinning is 
mightier than God's goodness in showing mercy. Who- 
ever says that is a doomed man. We dare not say that 
the despair of Judas was a greater sin than his treason; 
but it was the more fatal ; it was the last. 

Judas was a perfidious wretch without doubt. But he 
is a type of a multitude of sinners, and as such the Lord 
mourned over him bitterly ; namely, those who either give 
up their religion or who otherwise violate their conscience 
for the sake of money. Many a one who abhors Judas 
would be shocked if he but sincerely asked himself 
whether he had never truckled in matters of conscience to 



124 Jesus in the Power of the High Priests. 

the power of money. Judas is also the archetype of all 
hypocrites, and his fate is a terrible warning to men and 
women who live outwardly as followers of Christ, and 
deal secretly with the evil one by a hidden course of wick- 
edness. 

Our Redeemer still continues to treat perfidy in us as 
He did in Judas, that is, with infinite patience and for- 
bearance. Shall it not be with very different results ? He 
has called me to His closest friendship, spoken affection- 
ately to my heart every day by the inspirations of His 
grace ; and by His holy sacrament He has given me bet- 
ter than His kiss of peace and pardon, He has given me 
His very self. Nay; He has already forgiven me not 
one but many betrayals. And yet I am what I am. Every 
Christian is a disciple of Jesus; what disciple can be 
against such a Master and not be a traitor ? 

Thus we must always return to the plainest lesson 
taught by the case of Judas, as it is the most affecting: 
That God treats His worst enemy, that is to say, a false 
friend, with forbearance even to the very end, regardless 
of the degree of turpitude or of any other aggravating 
circumstance whatsoever. Hereby the history of Judas 
is a lesson of hope for the devout friends of hardened 
sinners, for it proves fully how extremely reluctant Jesus 
is to condemn even the most desperate cases. Our Savior 
did for him enough to convert a very demon, hoping 
against hope to save him. And this was wholly charac- 
teristic of Jesus. His entire career was full of such 
things. If He would sit down to eat, His favorite com- 
pany was publicans and sinners; them He would seek 
out with unwearying persistence, and be overjoyed at 
finding them. He "receiveth sinners," railed the Phari- 



The Fate of Judas. 125 

sees ; and He associated with them to the scandal of both 
friends and foes, excused and defended them, loaded 
them with favors — and won them. And having done so, 
He paraded them as His dearest trophies. Finally He 
suffered and died for them and with them, and by the 
kind of death set apart for the most atrocious among 
them, being indistinguishable from malefactors in His 
most sacred hour and in the greatest act of His life, His 
crucifixion. 

The loss of Judas after so many and such patient 
efforts was a great grief to Jesus. One of life's hardest 
pains is the sense of failure in earnest efforts to save 
those we love. Chagrin and disappointment are sore 
afflictions, and they are at their worst when sacrifices are 
totally unappreciated, tears wholly disregarded, heartaches 
not even adverted to. Parents can bear us witness here, 
for they often feel these pangs, perhaps the sharpest ever 
known to our human nature. 

Jesus felt this agony for each of the lost, not one of 
whom but might be saved if he would respond to those 
interior influences of grace and those external providences 
of God which lead men to repentance. These are the em- 
brace of Jesus and His kiss of forgiveness to perishing 
souls. And He felt the loss of His Apostle more acutely 
than that of any others of the reprobate. In the very 
midst of His sufferings for men's salvation, Jesus, in 
the case of Judas, met with His most conspicuous failure 
to win and save a sinner. 

Judas' craft foiled the holy ingenuity of Christ's 
charity; his hardness of heart resisted the fire of even 
Jesus' love. And we believe that heaven alone will re- 
veal to us how bitter was His disappointment. He had 



126 Jesus in the Power of the High Priests. 

failed to save a great sinner, one of His chosen band of 
associates, the sinner of all others nearest to Him, most 
subject to His saving powers, most needing salvation. 
He tried fear, He tried love; both failed upon Judas. 
After washing his feet in the supper-room, and first ob- 
scurely and then plainly offering pardon without success, 
Jesus still persisted — He kissed Judas and embraced him 
in the burning act of his betrayal, called him His friend, 
and whispered in his very ear an invitation to repent 
that should have melted him into tears; the memory of 
which should at least have saved him from suicide — 
would have saved him were he not Judas Iscariot. Judas 
he is and Judas he remains, finally and forever impeni- 
tent. 

Oh, the might of sin! Oh, the endurance of love! 
Oh, true friendship, patient, generous, all-forgiving! O 
Jesus! friend of sinners, teach us the lesson of Thy 
mercy and of Judas' perversity ! 



PART III. 

Jesus Before Pilate. 

Chapter I. 

Jesus is Led Before Pontius Pilate. 

And the whole multitude of them rising up, bound Jesus 
and led Him away, and delivered Him to Pontius Pilate, the 
governor. Then they led Jesus from Caiaphas to the gov- 
ernor's hall. And it was morning; and they went not into 
the hall, that they might not be defiled, but that they might 
eat the pasch. Pilate, therefore, went out to them, and said: 
What accusation bring you against this Man? They answered 
and said to him: If He were not a malefactor, we would not 
have delivered Him up to thee. Pilate therefore said: Take 
Him you, and judge Him according to your law. The Jews 
therefore said to him : It is not lawful for us to put any man 
to death; that the word of Jesus might be fulfilled, which 
He said, signifying the death He should die (Matt, xxvii. 2; 
Mark xv. 1; Luke xxiii. 1; John xviii. 28-32). 

"When morning was come" — at dawn on Good Friday 
— sunset will see the dead body of Jesus delivered into 
the hands of His friends for burial, His soul into His 
Father's bosom, His sorrows over, His victory won. 

The chief priests used every moment of daylight with 
eager haste. No need of messengers to reassemble the 
council; "Their feet are swift to shed blood" (Ps. xiii. 
3). They met together at sunrise, and Jesus was im- 
mediately brought before them for the final and legal con- 



128 Jesus Before Pilate. 

elusion of the trial, His avowal of the divine Sonship 
once more drawn from His sorrowful but willing heart, 
and their sentence of the night betore repeated with the 
necessary formality. 

The effects of the maltreatment Jesus had undergone 
were plainly seen in the morning light, as He was dragged 
before the court— the features swollen, the eyes black- 
ened, the hair and beard torn, and the spots and stains of 
the spittle as it was drying upon His face. 

The chief priests, not knowing what resistance, and 
therefore delay, Pilate might make, would engage him in 
the case as early as possible. Another reason for haste 
was the need of cleansing the holy city of this culprit and 
His ugly case ere the beginning of the great Sabbath of 
the Passover that very evening. They would pass across 
the city, too, before the adherents of their prisoner could 
gather for a rescue, though Judas and Peter had shown 
them that they had little to fear on that ground. Yet they 
knew that Jesus was ever the people's friend, and as His 
coming into the city on Sunday had been a tumult of 
welcome, His going out on Friday might not so easily be 
made a tumult of condemnation. But "the whole multi- 
tude" of the servants and adherents of the priests and of 
the temple made a formidable body. These were ready at 
hand, having spent the night, some of them in tormenting 
Jesus, and the rest at and about Caiaphas' house, and they 
could gather many others of the same kind. So Jesus' 
bonds were quickly tightened, His guards carefully placed 
about Him, and He was hurried away to Pilate. 

Weakened by a night of such suffering, He must have 
stumbled now and then, as they urged Him along the 
streets ; but they would know how, by blows and curses, 



Jesus is Led Before Pontius Pilate. 129 

to force Him forward. As the noise of this procession at 
so early an hour drew the people from their houses, the 
chief priests and their officials doubtless called out to them 
that this was a false prophet, leader of a desperate gang 
of rebels against their law and their temple, and that they 
had overpowered Him and were now going to have Pilate 
condemn Him to death. Who could contradict them? 
Who would recognize Jesus in the forlorn wretch they 
were dragging along with them? 

Thus they "delivered Him to Pontius Pilate." They 
did so because they had no authority to execute a death 
sentence themselves. And they were glad that the Roman 
sentence of crucifixion, the most cruel and disgraceful 
known to a very cruel code, would be His fate — to not 
only kill Him, but to fatally dishonor His memory for all 
time was their purpose. But "they entered not the judg- 
ment hall, lest they should be defiled," that is, by com- 
municating with heathens in their home. Upon this act 
of hypocrisy St. Augustine remarks: "O impious and 
foolish blindness ! because, forsooth, they would be de- 
filed by a dwelling which was another's, and not be defiled 
by a crime which was their own!" They at once peti- 
tioned Pilate for the death sentence. When he, naturally 
enough, asked to know the crime of the accused Man and 
the evidence against Him, they answered with much ef- 
frontery: "If He were not a malefactor, we would not 
have delivered Him up to thee." He was to order Jesus 
executed on their bare statement of His guilt. Pilate 
answered: "Take Him you and judge Him." 

This was Pilate's first false step. He should have de- 
manded evidence of the prisoner's guilt and arranged for 
a fair, legal trial, keeping justice alone in view. His ofifer 



130 Jesus Before Pilate. 

to let the Jews kill Jesus, though they doubtless did not 
believe it sincere, and therefore not to be accepted, plainly 
betrayed to them Pilate's temporizing character, and en- 
couraged them to bully him. Even if they thought that 
they would be really allowed to stone Jesus to death — 
their only legal form of execution — they would not avail 
themselves of the power to do so till they had quite failed 
to have Him crucified, the cruel and disgraceful torture 
for which they had destined Him. Furthermore, they 
wanted the prestige and protection of the Roman gover- 
nor in the event of a popular reaction in favor of Jesus 
after His execution. For all these reasons they insisted on 
Pilate's making the case his own, and demanded his im- 
mediate sentence of death upon their victim. 

Thus the trial of Jesus was begun by the chief priests 
forcing Him on Pilate. He, in turn, will strive to force 
Him on Herod, who, too cunning to involve himself in 
so dangerous a matter, will send Jesus back to Pilate. 
Then that unfaithful magistrate will spend the whole 
forenoon in shifts and expedients, now to be rid of Jesus 
at any cost, again to save Him from His ferocious ene- 
mies — anything to save himself from the stain of His 
blood. So did Judas strive to be freed from that stain, 
that spot of horror, delivering up his blood money to the 
men who gave it to him. The Jews alone were glad of 
that awful stain of Jesus' blood, both for themselves and 
for their children — and yet would have the Roman judge 
do their dreadful murder for them. 

Pilate was, therefore, immediately impressed with the 
gravity of his position. He is likely to have already 
foreboded trouble, when the evening before he had con- 
sented to detail, at the request of the chief priests, so large 



Jesus is Led Before Pontius Pilate. 13 1 

a force as a tribune's command ; he must have known that 
it was to be used for apprehending a seditious Rabbi at 
the head of his adherents. And now he had before him 
this prisoner, totally different from an insurrectionist, 
evidently a peaceful, religious man, but accused vehem- 
ently by the principal men of the Jewish people, masters 
in all their most sacred life, the priests and doctors of the 
Hebrew faith and worship. He knew them well and dis- 
liked them. But their power was great ; from them alone 
had he reason to dread any serious trouble in his juris- 
diction. 

He saw, too, that the ones to whom he might have 
looked for peaceable counsels, the usually pliant, accom- 
modating Sadducees, were fierce enemies of Jesus, fairly 
raving against Him. Worse still, these had the Pharisees 
with them, leaders of the pious Israelites, now acting in 
unheard of harmony with the Sadducees, whom they cor- 
dially hated as heretics and traitors. They hated Jesus 
yet more bitterly, and yet Pilate knew from even a cursory 
examination that Jesus was totally innocent of any deed 
that the Roman authority could recognize as a crime. He 
would not have been himself had he looked with calmness 
and courage on this attempt to intimidate him into com- 
plicity in the execution of an innocent man. 

So we have now followed our Redeemer to Pilate's 
hall, into another stage of His progress towards His 
death. "Lord, show me Thy ways, and teach me Thy 
paths" (Ps. xxiv. 4). Jesus, Thou art the best teacher 
men have ever known. But if Thou dost make me be- 
lieve that Thy way to Pilate is a model for me to follow 
in my journeys, it will be an achievement worthy of even 
Thy fame. 



132 Jesus Before Pilate. 

From the time of His arrest to the end, Jesus made six 
journeys : from the Garden to the house of Annas, from 
there to the house of Caiaphas, thence to Pilate's court, 
from there to Herod, back again to Pilate, and finally to 
Calvary. Let us reverently kiss His footprints in all these 
weary ways, and let us drop our tears upon every step as 
we count them against our own steps in our goings and 
comings in search of sin. How loving and how sorrow- 
ful was Pie, while journeying onward towards our ran- 
som, treading out beneath His feet the guilty tracks of 
our waywardness, as we have made haste to our pleasures. 

Lord, "direct my steps according to Thy word" (Ps. 
cxviii. 133). From Thy first steps in infancy, till these 
Thy faltering steps in the weakness of approaching death, 
not one but was directed by love of me. Let all of mine 
after this be in the ways of Thy love and the paths of in- 
nocence and peace. 



Chapter II. 
Pilate Refuses to Condemn Jesus. 



And they began to accuse Him, saying: We have found 
this Man perverting our nation, and forbidding to give tribute 
to Caesar, and saying, that He is Christ the King. Pilate 
therefore went into the hall again, and called Jesus, and said 
to Him,: Art Thou the King of the Jews? Jesus answered: 
Sayest thou this thing of thyself, or have others told it thee 
of Me? Pilate answered: Am I a Jew? Thy own nation, 
and the chief priests, have delivered Thee up to me. What 
hast Thou done? Jesus answered: My Kingdom is not of 
this world. If My Kingdom were of this world, My servants 
would certainly strive that I should not be delivered to the 
Jews; but now My Kingdom is not from hence. Pilate there- 
fore said to Him: Art Thou a king then? Jesus answered: 
Thou sayest that I am a king. For this was I born, and for 
this came I into the world, that I might give testimony to 
the truth. Every one that is of the truth, heareth my voice. 
Pilate saith to Him: What is truth? And when he had said 
this, he went forth again to the Jews, and saith to them: I 
find no cause in Him. And the chief priests accused Him in 
many things. And when He was accused by the chief priests 
and ancients He answered nothing. Then Pilate saith to 
Him: Dost Thou not hear how great testimonies they allege 
against Thee? And He answered him to never a word, so 
that the Governor wondered exceedingly. And Pilate said to 
the chief priests and to the multitude: I find no cause in this 
Man. But they were the more earnest, saying: He stirreth 
up the people, teaching throughout all Judea, beginning from 
Galilee to this place (Matt, xxvii. 11-14; Mark xv. 2-5 ; Luke xxiii. 
2-5; John xviii. 33-38). 



134 Jesus Before Pilate. 

Our Redeemer now heard Himself accused of sedition 
against Caesar, of perverting the Jewish people from their 
religion, and of setting Himself up as their king. His 
heart sickened within Him at these accusations, so straight 
against the truth, urged with such fierce earnestness be- 
fore that pagan court, and by the chief priests of God's 
people. The accusers, however, overshot the mark when 
they said He had excited popular commotions from 
Galilee to Jerusalem; half of all Israel could not be in 
disturbance and Pilate not know it. He at once set the 
charge aside. But he examined Jesus privately about His 
kingship ; perhaps He was a rival of the Herods, for there 
was no lack of royal blood in Israel. 

Our Redeemer pitied the governor most deeply, and 
He would help him to be true to his duty as a magistrate, 
so when Pilate asked him: "Art thou the King of the 
Jews?" Jesus answered: "Sayest thou this of thyself, 
or have others told it to thee?" Pilate was irritated by 
the question, and he answered contemptuously: "Am I 
a Jew? Thy own nation and the chief priests have de- 
livered Thee up to me. What hast Thou done?" Upon 
which Jesus reverted to Pilate's original question : "Art 
thou the King of the Jews ?" He answered in all candor 
that He was indeed a King, but added : "My Kingdom is 
not of this world;" as was indeed plain, from His total 
lack of subjects. But Master of men's hearts and minds 
for all light and love, that He at once claimed to be, and 
in words of kingly majesty: "For this was I born, and 
for this came I into the world, that I might give testimony 
to the truth." Mine is a spiritual supremacy, a majesty 
of instruction of men's souls, and of correction and ex- 
ample in all true life, and for all true men : "Every one 



Pilate Refuses to Condemn Jesus, 135 

that is of the truth, heareth My voice." Pilate was in no 
mood for such thoughts, and put this wonderful answer 
aside by the disdainful exclamation : "What is truth ?" 

Pilate, thou mayest well ask that question, for thou 
wilt finally deliver up to death truth incarnate, at the de- 
mand of liars and perjurers. Durst thou hear what the 
truth is about thee? Thou art a craven-hearted judge. 

"What is truth?" As if Jesus were some sort of 
philosopher, a speculator about curious questions. Pilate 
knew that this was an evasion, and therefore without 
waiting for an answer, he returned to his disputes with 
the clamoring priests and their followers. Why wait for 
an answer, anyway, from a teacher of truth without 
pupils, a Rabbi without a single adherent to stand up for 
him? 

Brief as was this colloquy, it convinced Pilate that his 
prisoner, though shamefully deserted by His friends, was 
a man of much gravity of character, sincere and candid, 
and wholly innocent of the only charge his court had any 
right to consider, that of sedition. Did he have any sus- 
picion of the supernatural character of Jesus ? We have 
no means of knowing; but his subsequent conduct, and 
especially his distress at giving Him up to be crucified, 
show it possible that Pilate's pagan heart was moved by 
more than natural dread of the consequences of his 
cowardice. 

Pilate was annoyed at Jesus for not setting up a regu- 
lar defence against the Jews, and reproved Him for His 
persistent silence. But Jesus knew that any other course 
w r ould, without helping His case, greatly increase their 
rage. He might have tried to strengthen Pilate by such 
arguments as these : This can only be the riotous tumult 



136 Jesus Before Pilate. 

of a faction; beware of the inevitable reaction from this 
delirium ; five days ago the whole city acclaimed Me with 
hymns of worship. And I have thousands of friends, 
men wild and hot from Galilee and from everywhere else ; 
they are now taken by surprise, but in a short while they 
will begin to assemble, perhaps with arms in their hands. 
Postpone the trial for only forty-eight hours, till after the 
Passover Sabbath ; then in all tranquility bid my accusers 
call their witnesses — a rabble of perjurers you will find 
them to be. I claim only a fair and quiet trial, and that 
I claim in the name of justice, Hebrew as well as Roman. 

No ; there was not a word of all this from Jesus, but 
only the claim of His all-essential office of teacher of 
God's truth, King of heavenly wisdom in the realm of 
men's hearts. He made no complaint of the clamor 
of a mob, the untimely hour, the incoherent demands, 
the frantic haste, the bullying spirit — no; he would 
not confuse the great issue. It was no question of doing 
justice to an accused man, but rather of the fate of the 
Master cf Divine Truth. 

The chief priests were meanwhile much disturbed by 
this private conference between Jesus and the Roman. 
They dreaded the power of our Redeemer's words over 
Pilate. But if Jesus had not been able to soften their own 
hate, neither could He move Pilate's timidity. Yet their 
fears were justified to this extent that Pilate, while still 
holding Jesus in custody, concluded to refuse to condemn 
him to crucifixion or to any other capital punishment. 
Would that he had persevered in even this good resolve. 
He came forth and announced publicly : "I find no cause 
in this Man." 

It is to be remarked that, whereas the Pharisees hated 



Pilate Refuses to Condemn Jesus. 137 

Jesus because He taught against sedition, they now lent 
themselves to the charge that He had incited sedition, a 
charge made, too, by their traditional opponents, the Sad- 
ducean priests. Notice, besides, that no such accusation 
had been offered against Jesus in the court of Caiaphas. 
And we shall see later on that Barabbas, really guilty of 
murderous sedition, had the Sadducees for his friends, 
though submission to Rome was a prime rule of their 
party. 

Truly did Satan so manage, that the most opposite 
vices, all fitly represented, should work together in strict 
alliance against our Redeemer. The prince of holy pov- 
erty is betrayed for love of money. The prince of peace 
is condemned for public brawling, and the prince of holy 
chastity, the virgin Son of a virgin mother, is mocked and 
scorned by gluttonous Herod, who is the prince of the 
foulest lechery. Jesus, the very type of meekness and 
forgiveness, is hounded to death by the Pharisees, the 
most arrogant of mankind and the most pitiless. Truly 
when I commit mortal sin I place myself in awful com- 
pany. Every vice was recruited against Jesus in His 
passion, all were mobilized into furious activity, and all 
worked well together. 

"A seditious person." Jesus was sensibly distressed 
by this charge. For never did any one hear Him speak 
twenty words., but that His soul was wrapt in the mantle 
of peaceful thoughts and gentle longing for virtue; un- 
less that soul were totally perverse. Two effects were 
produced upon our Redeemer's auditors by His teaching, 
and these directly contrary to each other ; in men of good 
will, peace of mind, gentle tears for sin, loving confidence 
in God's pardon, affectionate regard for one's neighbor; 



138 Jesus Before Pilate. 

in men of evil purposes, a sudden inward disturbance, a 
violent repression of better nature, a revolt against grace. 
"A troubled conscience always forecasteth grievous 
things" (Wisd. xvii. 10). Both Pharisees and Sadducees 
were of this latter class, and for directly opposite reasons. 
Jesus was thus certainly a disturber of the peace. Obdur- 
ate sinners were thrown into a ferment by His preaching 
and His example, none more so than those who, like the 
Pharisees, covered their villainy with a religious disguise. 
And in another way He raised disturbance; for He set 
men against each other whose union was the devil's truce 
with sin, but this sedition was the revolt of virtue against 
vice. The very struggles of the sinner's soul under the 
influence of Christ are peaceful. When the victory is 
won, and afterwards during all the years of perseverance 
in virtue, the sweetest memories are those of the agonies 
suffered at the time of repentence. 



Chapter III. 

Jesus Before Herod. 

But they were the more earnest, saying: He stirreth up 
the people, teaching throughout all Judea, beginning from 
Galilee to this place. But Pilate, hearing Galilee, asked if 
the Man were of Galilee? And when he understood that He 
was of Herod's jurisdiction, he sent Him away to Herod, 
who was also himself at Jerusalem in those days. And Herod 
seeing Jesus, was very glad; for he was desirous of a long 
time to see Him, because he had heard many things of Him; 
and he hoped to see some sign wrought by Him. And he 
questioned Him in many words. Lut He answered him noth- 
ing. And the chief priests and scribes stood by, earnestly 
accusing Him. And Herod with his army set Him at nought, 
and mocked Him, putting on Him a white garment, and sent 
Him back to Pilate. And Herod and Pilate were made 
friends together, that same day; for before they were ene- 
mies one to another (Luke xxiii. 5-12), 

Pilate hoped to be quit of Jesus by sending Him to 
Herod, because our Redeemer was that prince's subject 
as well as Pilate's, being a Galilean. And, furthermore, 
He claimed to be some sort of a king; perhaps Herod 
would settle the whole trouble by slaying Him as a rival. 
Yet Pilate did not force the judgment of Jesus on Herod, 
and he took care to send him a kindly message, leaving 
him free to retain Him and finish the case or to send Him 
back again. Herod was complimented by the Roman 
governor's action, which ended we know not what serious 
disagreement between them. 



140 Jesus Before Pilate. 

Jesus was, therefore, hurried away and presented be- 
fore the murderer of John the Baptist (Mark vi. 28). 
Our Redeemer looked with pity upon this notorious 
creature, but when questioned by him, He preserved total 
silence. He did not anticipate a death-sentence from 
Herod, though He knew he had beheaded the Baptist to 
please a w r anton woman, and that he might easily enough 
be provoked to kill the Baptist's venerated Master. 

Herod, however, had no thought of shedding Jesus' 
blood, although His enemies earnestly accused him. His 
interest in anything but sensual pleasure was not great, 
and he knew Jesus claimed no sort of kingship that could 
interfere with his own authority. And, naturally cunning, 
he refused to be embroiled in the hot strife raging between 
Pilate and the chief priests. 

But he had heard of Jesus' miracles, both from John 
and from common report. Here, thought he, is the arch- 
magician of the whole world, let us enjoy His wonder- 
working. About His miracles, therefore, he "questioned 
Him in many words/' but he was answered by absolute 
silence. 

Did he dare to ask Jesus about John the Baptist ? The 
virtue of chastity? The day of judgment? Whether one 
can save his soul by cunning ? Alas, no ; or he would have 
won ready answers from Jesus. He asked only for mir- 
acles. The members of his court joined King Herod in 
this quest for the marvels of magic, the very men, prob- 
ably, to whom he had served the head of the Baptist on 
a platter amid their lascivious feasting. 

The king and his satellites were piqued at Jesus for 
His silence — He, a friendless wretch, nay, a man doomed 
to the cross, to stand motionless and calm and mute before 



Jesus Before Herod, 141 

them. So they took a petty revenge upon Him ; they de- 
rided Him and scoffed at Him, and finally wrapt Him in a 
white sheet as a fool's uniform, and in that garb sent Him 
back to Pilate, amid the loud jeers of the chief priests and 
their followers. 

That garment, Jesus felt, was the sort of royal robe 
one might well wear if He would aspire to be King of our 
foolish race — but it pained Him deeply all the same. The 
insulting questions of the king and his court, the furious 
accusations of the Jews, the folding Him in that garment 
of derision, all was exquisitely painful. Yet meanwhile 
He knew that the principal scene of His woes was the 
Roman court, and the final decision of His fate must be 
not with Herod and his flatterers, but with Pilate and the 
chief priests. 

And now the expectant crowd outside Herod's dwelling 
see Jesus flung out among them clothed in a white gar- 
ment, amid roars of laughter from the king's courtiers. 
O God, grant us to know the heart of Jesus that hour ! 

We can easily imagine how He must have suffered in 
his journeys between the Roman coward and the half- 
pagan Jewish prince. The guards and the rabble can 
fling mud on Him and strike Him with impunity, and they 
can stab Him with their blasphemous tongues at every 
step. May all that they do and say increase our love and 
veneration for Him. 

One solace He had. "Herod and Pilate were made 
friends together that same day." He could not save 
either of them. But He served the public peace by allay- 
ing discord between its two principal guardians. We 
remember that when He worked the great miracle of the 
loaves and fishes, He did not allow even the fragments to 



142 Jesus Before Pilate. 

be wasted. In His great work of atonement, this little 
boon to His country, the reconciliation of Pilate and 
Herod, was gladly given. * 

The episode of Jesus standing in Herod's court adds 
a peculiar pain to our thoughts about the passion. O 
Jesus, Thou hast committed Thy fate to the worst men in 
the whole world : Jews wrought up to the very insanity 
of hate ; a Roman ruler quailing before them ; a licentious 
and murderous Oriental prince — among all these art 
Thou placed, and to their will art Thou abandoned, for 
our sakes and for our salvation ; thus it is that Thou dost 
establish justice and purity and mercy among men. 

But is it not really foolish to allow oneself to go to 
shame and death without defence? So the world thinks. 
But, "let no man deceive himself ; if any man among you 
seem to be wise in this world, let him become a fool, that 
he may be wise" (I. Cor. iii. 18). And again the Apostle 
exclaims: "We are fools for Christ's sake" (I. Cor. iv. 
10). Is it not foolish to give up one's rights for the sake 
of peace ? To secretly pay an enemy's debt ? To recom- 
pense evil with good? To prefer future happiness to 
present happiness ? And these foolish ways of acting are 
the choice maxims of the Gospel. And how foolish to 
say, Blessed are the poor, and they that mourn, and they 
that are persecuted. These are the very beatitudes of our 
Sufferer in Herod's court. To answer insult with gentle 
silence is Christian wisdom. And to meet force with pati- 
ent suffering is divinely wise. Let us adore this wisdom 
of God, and imitate it as practiced by our Redeemer, each 
one of us according to his opportunities and inspirations. 

But for this a very earnest spirit is necessary; our 
hearts are not easily bent to forego defending our good 



Jesus Before Herod. 143 

name, which indeed is usually to be guarded with care. 
But occasionally it must be risked or even forfeited for 
God's good pleasure and our neighbor's welfare. To 
meet such emergencies we must be prepared with a plen- 
tiful store of self-denial and humility. The spectacle of 
Jesus before Herod, mocked and despised, should there- 
fore never fade from our minds. The day is sure to 
come when each one of us shall need grace to be silent and 
submissive under the accusation, or at least the insinua- 
tion, of being a fool. 

Herod had been "desirous of a long time" to see 
Jesus. Oh, how many guileless souls, very different from 
Herod, yearn for many years after Jesus, His truth, His 
love, often without knowing whom and what they are 
craving for. 

Jesus, Thou art indeed the wonder of the world ; I long 
to see Thee, I hope to see "some sign wrought'' by Thee ; 
namely, the miracle of the healing of my soul. To behold 
this marvel I have a devouring curiosity. At such times 
as confession and Communion this is gratified for a mo- 
ment. Oh, how happy a moment! Extend and diffuse 
that moment over my whole life, 



Chapter IV. 
Barabbas is Preferred to Jesus. 

And Pilate, calling together the chief priests and the 
magistrates and the people, said to them: You have pre- 
sented unto me this Man as one that perverteth the people; 
and behold I, having examined Him before you, find no cause 
in this Man, in those things wherein you accuse Him; no, 
nor Herod neither; for I sent you to him, and behold, noth- 
ing worthy of death is done to Him. I will chastise Him, 
therefore, and release Him. Now upon the solemn day the 
governor was accustomed to release to the people one pris- 
oner, whom they would. And he had then a notorious pris- 
oner, that was called Barabbas, who was put in prison with 
some seditious men, who in the sedition had committed mur- 
der. And when the multitude was come up, they began to 
desire that he would do as he had ever done unto them. They 
therefore being gathered together, Pilate said: Whom will 
you that I release to you, Barabbas, or Jesus that is called 
Christ? For he knew that the chief priests had delivered 
Him up out of envy. And as he was sitting in the place of 
judgment, his wife sent to him, saying: Have thou nothing 
to do with that just Man, for I have suffered many things 
this day in a dream because of Him. But the chief priests 
and ancients persuaded the people, that they should ask 
Barabbas, and make Jesus away. And the Governor answer- 
ing, said to them: Whether will you of the two to be re- 
leased unto you? But the whole multitude together cried 
out, saying: Away with this Man, and release unto us Barab- 
bas. And Barabbas was a robber. And Pilate again spoke 
to them, desiring to release Jesus: What will you then that 
I do to the King of the Jews— Jesus that is called Christ? 
But they all cried again, saying: Crucify Him, crucify Him. 
And Pilate said to them the third time: Why, what evil hath 
this Man done? I find no cause of death in Him; I will 



Bar abbas is Preferred to Jesus. 145 

chastise Him, therefore, and let Him go. But they were 
instant with loud voices, requiring that He might be cruci- 
fied, and their voices prevailed. And Pilate, seeing that he 
prevailed nothing, but rather that a tumult was made, taking 
water, washed his hands before the people, saying: I am 
innocent of the blood of this just Man; look you to it. And 
the whole people answering, said: His blood be upon us and 
upon our children. So Pilate, being willing to satisfy the 
people, gave sentence that it should be as they required. 
And he released unto them Barabbas — him who for murder 
and sedition in the city had been cast into prison, whom they 
had desired (Matt, xxvii. 15-18, 20-26; Mark xv. 6-15; Luke xxiii. 
13-25; John xviii. 39, 40). 

Pilate had hoped that Herod would relieve him of 
Jesus, and was doubtless sorry to have Him back again 
to dispose of, with the chief priests clamoring louder than 
ever for the death-sentence. Pilate was loth to yield to 
them, and he repeated his decision : "I find no cause in 
Him," quoting Herod against them. But he immediately 
added : "I will chastise Him, therefore, and release Him" 
— a fatal self-contradiction which did not escape the eager 
attention of the Jews. 

It would seem that just at this moment Pilate was in- 
terrupted by a petition to release a notorious prisoner, an 
insurgent, a robber, and a murderer, named Barabbas. 
This was according to a custom at the Passover, the 
choice of the fortunate culprit being left to a sort of popu- 
lar vote. It immediately occurred to Pilate that our 
Savior might have friends enough to make a plea for His 
release, in preference to so vile and blood-stained a wretch 
as Barabbas. He hoped to divide the votes of the multi- 
tude and then to decide in favor of Jesus. The poor, 
cowardly judge; if he could get that encouragement he 
thought he might stand his ground. He, therefore, of- 



146 Jesus Before FilaL\ 

fered the people their choice between "Barabbas, or Jesus 
that is called Christ, the King of the Jews." 

But for some reason unknown to us — unless it be the 
message of his wife about her dream — he delayed press- 
ing the matter to a conclusion, and the interval was well 
used by the chief priests. Playing the part of dem- 
agogues they cajoled and threatened "the multitude," 
which was, besides, made up in great part of their own 
adherents. When the governor again demanded their 
choice of a prisoner to be pardoned, "the whole multitude 
together cried out, saying: Away with this Man, and 
release unto us Barabbas." Pilate pleaded further with 
them, but in vain. "What will you then that I do to Jesus 
that is called Christ?" he demanded. "Crucify Him! 
crucify Him !" shouted that dreadful mob ; and when he 
a third time appealed to them, "they were ^instant with 
loud voices, requiring that He might be crucified." Pilate 
gave up, as was to be expected. 

Then he made a pitiable show of himself, by publicly 
washing his hands, and exclaiming: "I am innocent of 
the blood of this just Man ; look you to it." An appalling 
answer was returned : "His blood be upon us and upon 
our children." And it was the whole assemblage of the 
Jews, from the high priests and doctors of Israel down to 
the street rabble of Jerusalem that uttered this most his- 
torical of all imprecations, and the one most awfully ful- 
filled. 

The cry for blood must have been a roar — "the whole 
multitude together cried out." Oh, how sad this was to 
Jesus. He loved the multitude most devotedly, being one 
of the working people Himself, and thoroughly identified 
with the average humanity of our race. And He had won 



Bar abb as is Preferred to Jesus. 147 

the common people's hearts; the whole world had run 
after Him (John xii. 19) ; they had thronged and pressed 
upon Him so that He must preach from a hillside, or from 
a boat at the lake shore, His heart always yearning for 
the masses. "I have pity on the multitude" (Matt. xv. 
32), He once exclaimed, and this was to proclaim His 
characteristic virtue, "And seeing the multitudes, He 
was moved with compassion'' (Matt. ix. 36), which 
might truly be called His invariable state of mind. 

And now the multitude, seeing Him, are beside them- 
selves with rage against Him; and this, He felt, would 
break His heart, but that He knew of another multitude, 
His own, and one that was faithful in spirit, though timid 
in act. We shall see that "there followed Him a great 
multitude of people and of women," as He started toward 
Calvary laden with His cross. And again, after His 
death: "All the multitude of them that were come to- 
gether to that sight, and saw the things that were done, 
returned striking their breasts." 

Pilate, meanwhile, was a pitiable spectacle of vacilla- 
tion. He struggled by turns with conscience and with fear 
of the Jews — "seeing that he prevailed nothing, but that 
rather a tumult was made." I had rather, as if to say, pro- 
tect this innocent Man, if I could ; but I cannot do it with- 
out risk of a revolt. I must murder Him, therefore, to 
avoid a public tumult. This is what weak men call a 
choice of evils, many a time alleged as an excuse for gross 
infidelity to trust. Why did he not say: I am not to 
blame if a tumult is made, but I am to blame if an innocent 
Man in my custody suffers harm. Tumult or no tumult, 
I will do my duty ; He shall not be taken from my protec- 
tion to be murdered by His enemies, least of all shall they 
engage me as an accomplice in so horrible a crime. 



148 Jesus Before Pilate, 

No. But, "being willing to satisfy the people/' Pilate 
released Barabbas and ordered Jesus to be scourged, the 
legal preliminary to execution. O Jesus, thy fate is sealed ! 
Look, O Redeemer of my soul, upon Pontius Pilate wash- 
ing his hands after condemning Thee to death, and say- 
ing: "I am innocent of the blood of this just Man," and 
impart to me some of Thy own feelings of grief, some of 
Thy own fortitude in bearing my sins and those of the 
whole world. 

Pilate's ceremony of hand washing may have had a 
soothing effect on his guilty conscience. It had none upon 
the Jews, who were not grateful for his willingness to 
deliver Christ up to them, but rather enraged that he had 
not done it sooner — not the kind of men to be grateful for 
anything, claiming all things and yielding nothing. It 
had no effect in the eyes of God, whose kingdom consists 
not in washing the hands, but in purifying the heart. 

Guilt of soul, O Pontius Pilate, is not cleansed by 
washing of hands, but by interior washings of sorrow, 
with true purpose of amendment. Why dost thou not 
wash thy court clean of this filthy mob by turning thy 
soldiers upon them ? Why not insist, at least, upon a post- 
ponement of these proceedings, so headlong, so passion- 
ate? Because thou art an officer without courage and 
a magistrate without integrity. Wash that just Man's 
blood off thy soul if thou canst, after delivering Him up, 
all innocent and helpless, to His enemies. 

But Pilate is not the only one who has trusted to out- 
ward observances rather than to the inward spirit for his 
justification. And as he blamed the Jews for his own 
criminal neglect of justice, so many another sinner blames 
the devil, bad companions, or fierceness of temptation, 



Bar abb as is Preferred to Jesus. 149 

when his own heart is the sole culprit. Yet again, men 
are apt to excuse sins done under pressure of circum- 
stances, or from weakness and procrastination, as less 
wicked than those committed with more positive and orig- 
inal purpose. Pilate's case is very apt for their instruc- 
tion. 

Thus was Barabbas preferred to Jesus. The robber 
and murderer had friends, staunch and true, who watched 
their chance to save him, and succeeded. And where 
were the friends of Jesus? Sunday last was a day full 
of hosannas for Him from the lips of thousands ; is there 
not any echo of them this succeeding Friday? Has the 
whole tide of popular favor ebbed away from Jesus for- 
ever? 

The paschal privilege of amnesty for a prisoner was 
a God-sent opportunity. Pilate hailed it as a way of es- 
cape for his poor captive. The chief priests dreaded it — 
it threatened a sudden collapse of this bloodthirsty scheme 
against Jesus. Where are His friends ? Alas ! He had 
positively none to speak for Him, except miserable Pilate 
and his dreaming wife. He alone speaks for Jesus, and 
says : This Man is innocent, and if he were guilty, He is 
better than Barabbas, a robber and a murderer. And the 
awful answer is : No ; we are the priesthood and the peo- 
ple of God, and we proclaim that He is guilty. With all 
our might, and before high heaven, and all unanimously, 
we proclaim that a robber and a murderer is a better 
man than Jesus Christ. Away with Him to the gallows ! 

This seems perfectly monstrous — that even the worst 
men, having Jesus and Barabbas to choose between, 
should prefer this loathsome murderer to so benignant 
and all-beautiful a being as Jesus. But let the Christian 



150 Jesus Before Pilate. 

ask himself in all sincerity : What did I do when I com- 
mitted mortal sin? Whom did I prefer before Jesus? 
Let me, indeed, condemn the "whole multitude" of the 
Jews for their perfidy, but let me not fail to be equally 
just in condemning myself. 

The most conspicuous figures associated with our Re- 
deemer in His sufferings are three robbers. Two infam- 
ous criminals are placed on an equal footing with Him 
on Calvary, sharing the crucifixion. The third, Barabbas, 
confessedly guilty of one of the accusations against Jesus, 
namely, public sedition, happens very strangely to be 
brought into rivalry w r ith Him for the favor of the people 
— and wins the prize from Him. 

When Jesus heard that cry : Not this man, but Barab- 
bas! Oh, with what agony must He not have turned 
from men to God ! Do thou the same, my soul, w r hen 
thou art abandoned by men. And be prepared to do so 
even in the sunshine of their favor; remember Barabbas. 

What a humiliation for Jesus — to be publicly rated the 
inferior of a robber and a murderer. Could a more agon- 
izing sense of degradation be thought of than His, as the 
"whole multitude together cried out: Away with this 
Man, and release unto us Barabbas" ? What shame, what 
chagrin were His. Yet the lesson taught repentant sin- 
ners is most consoling. He was not only glad that this 
poor wretch was saved from death by means of His own 
condemnation, but the event was typical of His highest 
preference. There is no exchange of Himself Jesus has 
not made for hardened sinners. "What will a man give 
in exchange for his soul ?" He had solemnly asked on one 
occasion (Matt. xvi. 26). In exchange for not His own 
but His enemy's soul, the Son of God will give His very 



Barabbas is Preferred to Jesus. 151 

life, and, what is of higher value, His good repute among 
His best-loved people. 

As the shout went up that preferred Barabbas to Him, 
Jesus, with all His pain of heart, mentally joined in it. 
I, too, prefer Barabbas. I prefer any and every sinner to 
Myself — his good name to My good name, his life to My 
life. Let Me be disgraced, that the worst sinner may be 
honored forever; let Me die as a malefactor, that the 
cruellest brute of a man that ever lived may die amid 
angels and be borne by them to celestial bliss. 

In the eyes of Jesus Barabbas stood for all mankind. 
I am glad to release him and to take upon Me his crimes, 
He felt. Go thou free, O Barabbas, I strike the fetters 
from thy limbs, I blot out thy name from the list of the 
condemned. More than that, I will change thy sinful 
heart to penance and to love. I will open the heavens to 
thy immortal soul. 

What now is sorrow to Jesus is gladness to Barabbas, 
and that is soothing to our Redeemer's heart — a heart that 
in these dire events never faltered in its love for all, the 
chief priests, "the whole multitude" of his countrymen, 
Pilate, Herod, His hidden, cowering Apostles, Barabbas. 
I am glad, Jesus would say, that among the first for whom 
My death is the boon of life, is an extremely atrocious 
sinner, a seditious man, a robber and a murderer. To 
save such especially am I glad to die. 

We think, too, that later on Jesus must have granted 
Barabbas the infinite boon of His faith and grace, as the 
final result of this strange rivalry between them. Would 
not Barabbas naturally have attended the crucifixion? — 
and have been surely one of those who went back beating 
their breasts and saying, "Indeed this was the Son of 
God. 5 ' When our Redeemer had healed diseases, did He 



152 Jesus Before Pilate. 

not couple with the bodily miracle the inner gift of part 
don and peace? So, with Barabbas' earthly life, Jesus 
must have granted him eternal life. 

It remains to say a word of the singular message of 
Pilate's wife: "Have thou nothing to do with that just 
Man, for I have suffered many things this day in a dream 
because of Him." She does not advise her husband sim- 
ply to be quit of Jesus, least of all to give Him up to His 
enemies. No; for she calls him a "just Man," and she 
undoubtedly desired His release. This woman's voice, 
then, secret and panic-stricken, was the only one Pilate 
heard on Jesus' side in the whole trial. Doubtless it an- 
noyed Pilate. He would answer: What is this case to 
thee, a Roman woman and a worshipper of idols? Why 
shouldst thou meddle in this matter, embarrassing 
enough to me already? Have you ever seen this Man? 
What do you know about Him ? 

She was doubtless a devout-minded woman, perhaps 
a Jewish proselyte. Perhaps she had seen and heard Jesus 
in some of His public discourses. She had kept herself in- 
formed of all the steps of this process. Her servants were, 
in part at least, Hebrew women, and what Hebrew woman 
was not Jesus' friend and adherent God sent her a ter- 
rible dream the night before. Perhaps it was the events 
happening in Caiaphas' house that were acted in her soul 
by some terrible imagery, and she saw those wretches 
spitting in Jesus' face and brutally striking Him, heard 
their ribald laughter and their mocking, and was told by 
God that this Man was His only-begotten Son. Some way 
or other she had been warned, and she knew it was for 
her husband's sake ; and if in vain for him, let us hope not 
in vain for herself. 



Chapter V. 
'Jesus is Scourged. 

And Pilate said to them ... I find no cause in this 
Man; in those things wherein you accuse Him; ... I will 
chastise Him, therefore, and let Him go. So Pilate, being 
willing to satisfy the people, when he had scourged Him, 
delivered [Him] up to their will to be crucified (Matt, xxvii. 
26; Mark xv. 15; Luke xxiii. 13, 15, 16; John xix. 1). 

When Pilate announced: "I find no cause in this 
Man/' it sounded like a decisive acquittal of Jesus. But 
the craven heart is revealed in the words which follow: 
"I will chastise Him, therefore, and let Him go." Pilate 
hoped to get rid of the Jews by part payment of their un- 
just demand, as travelers would act with highwaymen. 
But this only encouraged them to demand all, which he 
finally yielded to them, 

Scourging has always been typical of wrath. The 
scourges of the divine wrath mean God's most terrible 
chastisements. Nations are scourged with a pestilence 
and war. A relentless, barbarous conqueror, like Attila 
the Hun, is called the scourge of God. The wrath of 
Rome was well shown in the cruelty of her scourging, 
for it was a punishment, like crucifixion, reserved only 
for slaves and barbarians (Acts xvi. 37). Jesus was to 
feel the full weight of this punishment. It was different 
from the merciful punishment of the Mosaic law, lim- 
ited to forty stripes save one. It was a brutal flogging, 



i$4 Jesus Before Pilate. 

unlimited both in the number and the severity of the 
stripes inflicted. 

Pilate's purpose was to excite the commiseraton of 
the Jews by the spectacle of Christ's condition after this 
torture, and thereby induce them to accept scourging in 
place of crucifixion. He might have succeeded with less 
bloodthirsty natures, for we learn from the authentic 
records of the martyrs in three succeeding centuries that 
many of them died under this punishment. The weapon 
itself varied, being sometimes leathern thongs, sometimes 
cords armed with leaden balls, sometimes long, thin rods. 

Seldom do we meet with men who positively delight 
in inflicting agony on other men, or who enjoy human 
torture for its own sake. Jesus met them that day ; they 
were the governor's soldiers, Roman legionaries, ma- 
chines for human slaughter rather than men, whose trade 
— nay, whose amusement — was cruelty to their fellow- 
men. They knew little of Jesus, except that He claimed 
to be a king. But there He was in their hands, and they 
were going to enjoy scourging Him. As they enjoyed 
pillage and rapine, so they enjoyed mocking at a writh- 
ing and dying wretch. History in a thousand places 
bears witness to this trait in the Roman soldier of our 
Redeemer's time. They must have said to one another: 
Here is a fellow who has set up to be a king against our 
Caesar — Jesus of Nazareth, sham king of the Jews. Let 
us cut Him deep; let us see how His Majesty will stand 
it. And so behind their whips was their scorn and their 
rage. 

This is one reason why the soldiers were especially 
cruel to Him. But when were executioners ever known to 
be anything else ? Besides, if the chief priests were so per- 



Jesus is Scourged. 1 55 

sistent in goading Pilate on to crucfy Jesus, they would 
not fail to stimulate the soldiers to cruelty in flogging 
Him, and gladly would they pay them for it. The sol- 
diers, therefore, looked at Jesus, as he was handed over 
to them, with anticipations of pleasure ; and He looked at 
them with forgiving glances. He took off His clothes, 
unveiling His virginal body in their sight, offering to His 
Father and to us, His brethren, the sacred flesh now to 
be torn and the precious blood now to be shed for our 
sins. He reaches out His hands, and He is quickly tied 
to the whipping post. He is tied fast and firm, so that in 
case He shall faint He may not fall to the ground. 

He needs not to be tied. Or rather, He is already tied 
by cords of affection, stronger than iron, bound to us and 
to our eternal welfare, a veritable whipping post of every 
pain. He will neither faint under the strokes nor lift a 
finger to escape. No, nor utter a groan. But the secret 
voice of His soul keeps time to the blows as they fall on 
Him. The soldiers may fix their own number of cruel 
stripes and He is agreed ; they may cut to the bone, and 
in His heart He says: Cut deeper, for every blow you 
strike resounds in My Father's court and pleads for the 
pardon of those I love. 

We know not how many stripes He received ; this we 
know: He would have chosen to have one given for 
every sin that we, His brethren, have committed, if He 
could have borne them all and have lived. Nor do we 
know how long they spent in flogging Jesus; but al- 
though it seemed an age to Him, their poor, quivering vic- 
tim, He yet patiently endured it. 

As steel strikes fire out of flint, so did the whips start 
the fire of love from Jesus' heart. The harder they 



156 Jesus Before Pilate. 

struck Him the more He loved them, and loved all sin- 
ners, in whose stead they dealt their dreadful blows; He 
answered the whips with darts of love. 

A single cut of a common whip, laid fiercely upon a 
man's bare skin, would burn like fire and raise a livid 
welt ; but these were no ordinary whips, but executioners' 
scourges. And the scourging of Jesus was a sort of uni- 
versal bodily torment ; His whole frame was laid bare for 
the soldiers' strokes; they could, if they wished, strike 
every limb, and doubtless they did so. He shed more 
blood now than at any other time in His Passion — a piti- 
able figure at the end of it, wholly bathed in blood, each 
drop gladly, but, oh, most painfully, offered up for us 
from His heart of hearts. 

There is no record of any indication of pain on His 
part. We know not if He stood firm as a rock ; perhaps 
so. But perhaps, also, He shrank into Himself as the re- 
peated blows, delivered, we may surmise, by more than 
one executioner at the same time, began to curl and tear 
His skin and flesh, and at every fast repeated stroke 
shocked His whole nervous system. As to His thoughts, 
some form of love always held paramount place in His 
soul. Here, we may fancy, besides His thoughts about 
the impurity of men, which damns so many souls, our 
Lord was mindful of the innumerable martyrs, who, He 
foreknew, would be flogged to the verge of death, and 
some unto death itself, for His Name's sake in the first 
ages of the Church. How tender a sympathy He must 
have felt for them during His scourging. The scourging 
at the pillar is one of the great events in our Lord's Pas- 
sion. Now, for the first time, His precious blood flows 
very copiously; now, for the first time also, bodily agony 



Jesus is Scourged. 157 

is great enough to threaten death — His Father's final 
purpose may at any moment be consummated by His 
death, perhaps would have been during the scourging but 
for a miracle. The executioners stop in time, however, 
to save life in their victim, and they untie His hands. 
The drooping form is set free. But he feels the awful 
ordeal He has passed through ; and His weakness alarms 
Him. I am almost dead, He must have gasped to Him- 
self. As He staggers to His poor garments to cover His 
naked and lacerated body, He steps in His own blood, and 
He sees His blood spattered on the faces and clothes of 
the soldiers ; He prays that it may yet cleanse their souls 
from sin. But they did not return Him as yet to Pilate. 
They, whose very sport is in cruelty, reserve Him for a 
scene of mockery. Nor have we any reason to suppose 
that they cleansed Him, even roughly, from his blood or 
staunched His wounds, before he put on His clothes. 

Some very obvious lessons are taught us by our Re- 
deemer's scourging. Consider that in this suffering He 
was atoning particularly for sins of impurity, and that He 
offered to His Father the shame of being stripped naked 
and flogged, in atonement for the shameless lust of those 
He loved. As the lashings of the whips cut Him, he 
thought of their souls as they shall stand naked before 
God at the moment of death to answer for their sensual 
vices. "By His stripes you are healed" (I. Peter ii. 24), 
says the Apostle. Thus God's justice — how keenly did 
Jesus feel it — scourged Him in our stead. The soldiers 
lashed His body with their whips, the Jews lashed His 
soul with their tongues, and every sinner lashed Him 
with his sins. 

Here, furthermore, we are taught the virtue of bodily 



158 Jesus Before Pilate. 

self-denial. Let no Christian who has studied Christ's 
scourging at the pillar ever again pamper his miserable 
flesh. Let each of us be able to say with St Paul : "I 
chastise my body, and bring it into subjection" (I. Cor. 
ix. 2j), and continually practice at least some little acts 
of bodily self-denial, not only by way of penance, but to 
show our sympathy with our Redeemer's passion. 

O Jesus, if Thy blood is rightly called Most Precious, 
then it can purchase me a keepsake from Thee — one of 
the scourges which drew from Thy sacred body that 
blood which all reverently I adore. I would hang that 
relic in my soul's most sacred shrine, and would, at least 
now and then, use it courageously upon myself to reduce 
my animal passions into obedience to reason, and reason, 
in turn, into subjection to the maxims of Thy Gospel, 



Chapter VI. 

Jesus is Crowned with Thorns. 

Then the soldiers of the governor, taking Jesus into the 
court of the palace, gathered together unto Him the whole 
band; and stripping Him, they clothe Him with a scarlet 
cloak, and platting a crown of thorns they put it upon His 
head (Matt, xxvii. 27-29; Mark xv. 16, 17; John xix. 2). 

After the scourging the soldiers were weary of cruel- 
ty — so one would think. But they turned from laborious 
cruelty to an easier and more enjoyable kind. They send 
out to a hedge nearby for some twigs of thorn, and twist 
them into a circle; then, at their command, Jesus strips 
Himself again, is clothed in a cast-off soldier's cloak, and 
they then crown Him with this crown of thorns, forcing it 
down into His scalp and entangling it in His hair. This 
was a new diversion for them, a new and excessively 
painful torture for Him. 

The special purpose they had in view was to inflict a 
peculiar and appropriate humiliation on Him as a pre- 
tended king. Scourging, thought they, is good enough, 
but it is not the most fitting punishment for a false king. 
He who is caught wearing a stolen crown should be 
forced to wear a painful one. And now above His tear- 
ful eyes they set the crown of thorns, and upon His fair 
and open brow they crush it down with rough brutality. 

In the long chronicle of the triumphs of victors over 
the vanquished, including many derisive crownings of 
captured kings, this coronation of the immortal king of 
the ages with a crown of thorns is unique — an original 



160 Jesus Before Pilate. 

inspiration of contempt for Jesus, king of the Jews. But 
we know not if He were more content with any of His 
sorrows than He was with this diadem of shame. For, 
hardly excepting the crucifixion itself, this crowning ex- 
presses more plainly than any of His outward inflictions 
His interior sense of shame for our sins. 

And men's placing it on His head shows most plainly 
their interior contempt for His divine sovereignty. The 
sin-infected earth brought forth thorns and briars; sin- 
ners, more savage than the earth, now crown their mon- 
arch with their sharpest insult. Hence, in our penitential 
meditations, we should be deeply moved by this sacred 
symbol of mock honor and shameful glory for our right- 
ful sovereign. When I am tempted to browbeat my 
neighbor, let me look upon Jesus' brow, and I remember 
His words : "The princes of the Gentiles lord it over 
them, and they that are the greater, exercise power over 
them. It shall not be so among you. . . . He that shall 
be first among you shall be your servant" (Matt. xx. 25- 
27). 

Next to the cross itself all Christian generations have 
venerated this coronet of mockery with tenderest love. 
And the honors of this world lose much of their attrac- 
tion when we behold Jesus wrapped in a torn scarlet 
cloak, crowned with thorns, enthroned amid our scoffing 
and blaspheming representatives. We love His crown 
because it so plainly tells that the chief glory of every 
Christian, after obtaining forgiveness of his own sins, is 
to bear the shame of his neighbor's sins. For Jesus never 
felt so truly a king as when arrayed in this royal insignia 
of sovereignty over His outlawed and disinherited 
brethren. 



Jesus is Crowned with Thorns. 161 

The last ignominy of a criminal is to be branded on 
his very forehead with a fiery and eternal mark of shame, 
and this day in paradise, around our Redeemer's royal 
brow, is a circle of scars; and his chosen crown of im- 
mortal honor is that He bore the shame of our sins and 
therein has the glory of our salvation for all eternity. 

"The head," says Father Thomas of Jesus, "is the 
part by which men are known, where the face is, where 
all the senses meet, as also the organs of life and conver- 
sation, and all beauty and deformity; wherein appear joy 
and sorrow, bravery and fear, health and sickness, and all 
the sentiments of the soul. It is that part, O Lord, which 
thou didst suffer to be pierced with thorns and stained 
with blood, and thus it was Thy choice to be distin- 
guished, O thou most beautiful among the children of 
men, most lovable spouse of my soul. It is by such signs 
as thorns and blood that Thou wouldst make me com- 
prehend what passes in Thy heart, the love with which it 
burns, and the zeal it has for my salvation and perfec- 
tion. And, oh, how much more deeply does that blood 
which flows upon Thy face, that head pierced with 
thorns, affect the hearts of those who are touched with 
Thy love, than if it shone with precious stones. The 
riches and crowns of the earth can give nothing but what 
they have, that is, earthly advantages ; but Thy pains and 
thorns fill the soul with heavenly sweetness, load it with 
spiritual riches, and fix it to Thee by the loyalty of a love 
which is above all imagination." 

The face of a candid man is the true expression of his 
soul. It pleased our Redeemer to be derided and mocked 
in His head and face, that we might read His mind as in 
an open book. His mind reads thus : The virtue of 



1 62 Jesus Before Pilate. 

humility is the Christian's crown. And also thus : Shame 
and sorrow for another's sins is a privilege a crowned 
monarch might envy. And again: Only when a man 
suffers out of love for an unworthy fellow-man is he 
really a prince in Christ's kingdom, especially if that suf- 
fering is a shameful one. 

Thus was Jesus crowned the leading criminal in the 
whole world and the king of all sinners. His coronation 
has been the incentive to countless splendid victories over 
pride, the vice which is the living root of all sin. As the 
cross of Christ is an incentive to bodily suffering for the 
sake of others, so does His crown of thorns lead us to be 
subject to others in all humility. Both cross and crown 
He committed to us as His special tokens, the one of self- 
sacrifice, the other of self-abasement. The very word 
crown means rule; not so among Christ's followers, but 
rather submission for Christ's sake to all our brethren. 



Chapter VII. 

■Jesus is Mocked by Pilate's Soldiers. 

Then the soldiers of the governor, taking Jesus into the 
court of the palace, gathered together unto Him the whole 
band, and stripping Him, they clothe Him with a scarlet 
cloak. And platting a crown of thorns, they put it upon His 
head, and a reed in His right hand. And bowing the knee 
before Him, they began to salute Him; they mocked Him, 
saying: Hail! King of the Jews. And spitting upon Him, 
they took the reed, and gave Him blows and struck His head; 
and bowing their knees they worshipped Him (Matt, xxvii. 27-30; 
Mark xv. 16-19; John xix. 2, 3). 

After the scourging of Jesus, and between His crown- 
ing and the final sentence of death, there was evidently 
some interval of time. This was purposely left by Pilate, 
beating about in his mind, perhaps, for yet some other 
way of saving our Redeemer without antagonizing the 
Jews; or, if he had no such hopes, then he was waiting 
for the framing of the now inevitable cross. At any rate, 
the delay was dreadfully employed by the enemies of the 
Lord. The soldiers had got but a partial gratification of 
their spiteful feelings, as we have seen, by the scourging 
of Jesus. Let us trick Him out, said they, with a royal 
robe. Where they got the ragged purple garment for our 
Redeemer's coronation we know not; sorry enough it 
must have been, for they knew it would be smeared with 
blood and entirely spoiled. Their barracks must have 
been near, a worn out and cast off soldier's cloak could 
easily be found there ; thus it is commonly surmised. A 
cheap walking stick for a sceptre, perhaps only a stalk of 
flag weed, finished the royal furnishings of the King of 



164 Jesus Before Pilate. 

Kings ; they fixed it in His right hand, which was bound 
by the wrists firmly to His left. 

The soldiers were beside themselves with delight at 
this spectacle. They bent the knee in mockery before 
Jesus, this preposterous creature, this mock king with 
tearful eyes, fainting form, ragged robes, and pale and 
downcast face. How loud they laughed at Him; how 
they spat in His face and struck it and slapped it. They 
called in their whole guard to join in this sport. It oc- 
cupied all the time till the last moments of His trial ; it is 
thus that He was rested for His journey to Calvary and 
for the suffering of the awful doom that there awaited 
Him. 

The maltreatment of Jesus the night before at the 
hands of Caiaphas' servants, was thus repeated in Pilate's 
palace by "the whole band" of the Roman soldiers. Then 
it had been His religious claims that were blasphemed, 
being mocked by the Jews as a false prophet; now it is 
His claim to be king that excites the derision and con- 
tempt of pagan Gentiles. One exclaims : I bow my knee 
to Thee, O king — and I spit in Thy face ! Another says : 
I crown Thee as my king — with thorns, and I beat Thee 
with Thy own sceptre ! And another : I proclaim Thee 
my king, all hail ! — and take this blow in the face as my 
payment of tribute! 

There sat Jesus among them, entirely defenceless, 
perfectly submissive, kind in His looks as in His heart's 
deepest depths, silent and forgiving ; waiting and longing 
for the end, but not impatiently. Contrast His heart with 
theirs; and that gentle, patient face with their scowling 
visages. Their inventing new insults, new torments, but 
gives Him power to bestow new blessings upon them and 
us. Little did they know the royal riches and royal gen- 



Jesus is Mocked by Pilofs Soldiers. 165 

erosity of their mock king's heart. How could they ? As 
already said — and it is the explanation of their cruelty — 
they belonged to a class of men little above the brutes, 
whose sweetest amusement is torturing other men. 

And by suffering at their hands Jesus merited for His 
Church one of her dearest privileges, her power for good 
over very brutalized men — cannibal savages and the most 
degraded creatures of the city slums. Such as these are 
her favorite flock. Her priests have miraculous graces to 
convert men in the condemned cells of penitentiaries. 
Read the history of the martyrs, and mark how often 
their executioners, who began by actually enjoying their 
awful task of torturing helpless Christians, ended by be- 
coming gentle-hearted Christians themselves, and even 
martyrs in their turn. The fickleness of royal favor has 
passed into a proverb. But the favor of our King is as 
lasting as it is generous, and it is best shown by His 
steadfast affection for the worst classes of mankind. 

O Jesus, crowned with thorns, enrobed in a soldier's 
cast-off rags, sceptred with a reed, receive my promise of 
humility as I bend my knee before Thee and adore Thee. 
I will never again lord it over my fellows. This spec- 
tacle, before which I bow in unfeigned reverence, shall 
never fade from my mind — a mind so opinionated and 
arrogant, so ready to contradict and so resentful of con- 
tradiction from others; here is Thy cure of all pride of 
opinion, all bullying mannerisms. 

Bring in the whole band of the human race, from 
earth and heaven and hell, and let every knee of them all 
bend down in lowly adoration before Jesus mocked in 
Pilate's hall. Let every tongue proclaim that meekness is 
the royal virtue and patience the royal glory of the sub- 
jects of Jesus, the King of Kings (Phil. ii. 10). 



1 66 Jesus Before Pilate. 

How good it is to serve Jesus as our King. In His 
court all are ennobled, not with the gift of perishable 
riches or empty titles, but with miraculous power of loving 
God and man, with holy desires to do good to all, with the 
supremacy of reason over brutish appetites and of 
brotherly love over all selfishness. In His court each one 
is admitted to the King's intimate friendship. Upon each 
soul is poured out an influence of holy love, changing his 
very nature into God's own, making his innermost 
thoughts Christ's own affections, making the blood royal 
of divine love the common heritage of all. 

What was mockery on the soldiers' lips that day, is 
now holiest sincerity on ours. O Jesus, 'Thou art my 
King and my God" (Ps. xliii. 5). He earned the joy of 
hearing this, our heartfelt salutation, by patiently submit- 
ting to that malignant mockery. He reigns in our hearts 
and in our lives, because He was content to be totally 
abased for our sins. "The Lord shall reign forever, thy 
God, O Zion, unto generation and generation" (Ps. cxlv. 
10). Hail, King of the Jews! To Jesus, "the King of 
ages, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and 
glory forever and ever. Amen" (I. Tim. i. 17). 

Thou art the gentle monarch of all earth and heaven, 
our only Master and our only King. Reign supreme in 
our lives, especially in our thoughts and affections. Thy 
reign is heavenly peace, Thy law is perfect love. May 
Thy kingdom come into every soul, every family, every 
nation. Other kings have before now reigned in my 
heart — malignant pride, degrading sensuality; they were 
usurpers and tyrants. Their victories were my enslave- 
ment, their gifts were my ruin. But I have expelled them 
all and they are gone forever, and Thou alone shalt reign 
in me. Hail, Jesus, my King and my God ! 



Chapter VIII. 
Behold the Man. 

Pilate, therefore, went forth again, and saith to them: 
Behold, I bring Him forth unto you, that you may know that 
I find no cause in Him. (Jesus therefore came forth, bearing 
the crown of thorns and the purple garment.) And he saith 
to them: Behold the Man! (John xix. 4, 5.) 

When the governor called for the return of Jesus he 
was struck with horror at the sight of that crowned, 
robed, and sceptred figure. The cloak had been thrown 
about His nearly naked body and fastened at the throat; 
it only partially covered His wounded and blood-streaked 
form, showing His bare bosom and manacled hands, the 
right one holding the reed. Pilate thought that the Jews, 
at least some of them, would be moved with pity at this 
spectacle, and that they might at last respond to his plea 
for our Redeemer's release ; if he, a pagan, were shocked 
at such a sight, why not many of the Jews ? 

So thought Pilate. "I find no cause in Him!" he 
cried; and leading Jesus forward till all could see Him, 
he called out in a loud voice. "Behold the Man !" As if 
to say: Is not this enough? Behold your victory, look 
at your conquered enemy. Is not this degradation 
enough for Him? — triumph enough for you? If you 
have hearts of stone, they should melt at this sight. Go 
on to the rest of your purpose if you dare — if you are 
wild beasts. What more do you want? That thorn- 
crowned head can never again be raised in Israel. Let 
Him go forth an outcast upon the earth. Pilate was 



1 68 Jesus Before Pilate. 

startled by the immediate and ferocious response: 
"Away with Him! Crucify Him!" 

No wonder that the governor thought that his pris- 
oner's condition would soften the hearts of His perse- 
cutors, especially as there was no air of defiance about 
Jesus, for in spite of the disfigurement of His face and 
form, He was all gentle and submissive, a demeanor 
which at closer approach was seen to be mingled with in- 
describable sadness. But this well-meant attempt of 
Pilate failed utterly. What if the Jews did appreciate, as 
they must have done, that Jesus was now wholly van- 
quished, scourged nearly to death, His face beaten out of 
recognition, an object of contempt even to the common 
soldiers ! They wanted more than this ; His death alone 
would content them. Therefore, when Pilate said, "Be- 
hold the Man !" they roared out savagely, "Crucify Him !" 

Why did not Jesus now break forth into a plea for 
justice, or at least for pity? Why did He not pour forth 
an appeal of passionate earnestness for His honor and 
His life, aye, and to save His countrymen from the 
dreadful guilt of deicide ? Who can resist Him if he un- 
dertakes to persuade ? Alas, the chief priests, they and all 
like them, can resist Jesus. Judas had done so ; and they 
themselves had resisted His power of winning souls 
many a time as He taught in Jerusalem and in Galilee. 
And if that silent spectacle of innocent suffering could 
not move their hearts to pity, what words could succeed ? 
The Ecce Homo has melted many very hard hearts into 
tears of genuine repentance since that day, and far more 
effectually than any words Jesus ever uttered; but it 
failed with the chief priests and their associates. 

To all Christian people the mere picture of Jesus as 
the Ecce Homo is one of resplendent, if plaintive, beauty, 



Behold the Man. 169 

breathing out an indescribable impression of our Redeem- 
er's blended majesty and love, all the more touching from 
the marks of ill-treatment He bears. The picture of His 
shame melts sinners with sympathy for Him and with 
contrition for their sins. The awful reality only stung 
the chief priests with more venomous hate. Seeing Him 
half dead made them long to see Him wholly dead — to 
see Him hung up a corpse in the sight of the entire na- 
tion.* 

And what, meanwhile, were the Savior's thoughts? 
More than once during His public career he had refused 
to be made king. And having then rejected the crown 
of gold and the rich robes of royal state, He does not 
now refuse a crown of thorns and the purple rags of 
mockery and scorn. A mock king He consents to be ; and 
a real king of all true-hearted souls in the universe He 
thereby has become. 

Who that saw Jesus arrayed in His scarlet cloak, His 
naked bosom showing out spattered with blood, His 
drooping head crowned with a thorny crown of mock- 
ery, His eyes dripping tears mingled with blood, His 
hands pinioned tight together and enclosing His sceptre 
of reed, who that saw this Ecce Homo would believe the 
royal proclamation which He made to His followers the 
very evening before, "Be of good heart, I have over- 
come the world" (John xvi. 33) ? And again: "You call 
me Master, and Lord; and you say well, for so I am" 
(John xiii. 13). 

And yet He had said truly. For has ever monarch 

*We may pause here to ask what must have been His mother's feelings 
as she received in her place of waiting reports of this Ecce Homo scene. 
One messenger would say that her Son was the most heartrending spectacle 
ever seen; and another would whisper that His enemies had left Him the 
most hideous and disgusting object that man ever beheld. And in the 
whole world she alone knew the full meaning of the Ecce Homo, 



1 70 Jesus Before Pilate. 

reigned so widely and so long as our Redeemer ; and for 
the very reason that He has conquered our hearts and 
mastered our souls by being scourged and reviled and 
crowned with thorns for our sakes ? 

God the Father had more than once exhibited His 
Son to the world as its Lord and Master. John the Bap- 
tist proclaimed that he had seen the Holy Ghost descend- 
ing and remaining upon Him (John i. 33), and the multi- 
tude heard the Father's voice saying : "This is My be- 
loved Son in whom I am well pleased" (Matt. iii. 17). 
But the Precursor gave Jesus His favorite title when, 
pointing to Him, he said, "Behold the Lamb of God, be- 
hold Him who taketh away the sins of the world" (John 
i. 36). That is truer now m the Ecce Homo than at the 
banks of the Jordan. Here is the Lamb being prepared 
for the sacrifice; here is shown exactly how the Father 
would have His beloved Son take away our sins. 

"Behold the Man!" says Pilate to the chief priests, 
the Gentile to the Jew; behold your Man, your teacher, 
your king, and your priest! I, a heathen, plead with 
you for Him. But it was all in vain. And when Pilate 
and the Jews are gone, the Bride of the Lamb, Christ's 
Church, takes up the Roman's words and forever repeats 
them to the world : Behold the Man, the Man of sorrows, 
now made the sovereign lord of all consolation. Behold 
your Savior, whose humility is greater than your pride, 
whose constancy will outlast your frailty. And Holy 
Church frequently invites us to look at Him in His pas- 
sion very closely, to study His features and His form, 
and learn of His heart its dearest lesson, meekness and 
humility. 

A perfectly direct meeting of man with man is de- 
scribed as being face to face. Now I am face to face 



Behold the Man. 171 

with the Ecce Homo. Dare I look squarely into His face, 
and frankly meet the pleading glances of His eyes ? 

Truly, if I love Jesus Christ, I must learn how to love 
humiliations for His sake and for the sake of sinners. 
For our Lord was determined all through His passion to 
appear outwardly in every way like a sinner, as He had 
chosen to feel interiorly the whole misery of a lost soul. 
It was not easy to see any difference between Him and a 
veritable reprobate. And such was His way of saving 
sinners, atoning thus to His Father for us, His sinful 
brethren, so deeply does He love us. But we profit 
thereby only when we are willing to share all this with 
Him. As He would take the form of our sin, the shame of 
our sin, and become like us out of love of us, so in re- 
turn He would have us resemble Him in this His atone- 
ment for us. We should have a feeling about sin re- 
sembling His, nay, identically His; especially the same 
sorrow for sin, which means the same motives of sorrow, 
namely, its injury to the sovereign goodness of our 
Heavenly Father, and its fatal hurt to our own immortal 
souls. 

Another resemblance of Himself He desires in us is 
that we should love sinners as He loved them, and this 
He desires ardently. To be like Him we are to love them 
because they are our brothers, wayward children of our 
common Father; and because their fate, unless they are 
loved and saved by their brethren, is to be one of unspeak- 
able horror and wholly irreparable. The entire purpose 
of Christ's passion, after it has saved a sinner, is to make 
him in turn a friend and a savior of other sinners. "For 
unto this are you called ; because Christ also suffered for 
us, leaving you an example that you should follow His 
steps" (I. Peter ii. 21). 



Chapter IX. 
Pilate Rebukes Jesus for His Silence. 

And [Pilate] saith to them: Behold the Man. When the 
chief priests, therefore, and the servants, had seen Him, they 
cried out, saying : Crucify Him ! crucify Him ! Pilate saith to 
them: Take Him you, and crucify Him; for I find no cause in 
Him. The Jews answered him : We have a law ; and according 
to the law He ought to die, because He made Himself the Son 
of God. When Pilate therefore had heard this saying, he feared 
the more. And he entered into the hall again, and he said to 
Jesus: Whence art Thou? But Jesus gave him no answer. 
Pilate therefore saith to Him: Speaketh Thou not to me? 
Knowest Thou not that I have power to crucify Thee, and I 
have power to release Thee? Jesus answered: Thou shouldst 
not have any power against Me, unless it were given thee from 
above. Therefore, he that hath delivered Me to thee hath the 
greater sin (John xix. 4-11). 

We have seen how Pilate's effort to save Jesus by 
the Ecce Homo was met by a fierce shout, "Crucify Him ! 
Crucify Him!" He was greatly irritated by this per- 
verse obstinacy, and he retorted, "Take Him, you, and 
crucify Him, for I find no cause in Him." This, though 
said in anger, was official permission to kill Jesus, and to 
do it by crucifixion. It sounded like surrender. But it 
was not enough ; they wanted him to crucify Jesus. They 
ignored Pilate's offer, and they again crowded him back 
upon the religious issue : "We have a law ; and accord- 
ing to the law He ought to die, because He made Himself 



Pilate Rebukes Jesus for His Silence. 173 

the Son of God." This caused him to fear the more ; he 
greatly dreaded the fanaticism of the Jews. ' 

The ultimate skill of the hypocrite is to invoke God's 
law against God's servants. How many times has even 
the Church's canon law been made a pretence to prevent 
her pontiffs and prelates from introducing much-needed 
reforms? How many times has the secular law been a 
dark wall of hindrance to the gospel of Christ ? Even in 
civil affairs, if a man would usurp office or rob the peo- 
ple, he uses the forms of law. He oppresses honest citi- 
zens no less by the craft of his lawyers than the brute 
force of his minions, using the letter of the law to the 
hurt of its equities. 

The law of Moses, say the Jews to Pilate, is against 
Jesus, because He claims to be the Son of God. And yet 
that law was made by the Father for the very sake of 
His Son Jesus, to prepare for Him, and to identify Him 
at His coming. Pilate understood nothing of this. 
But what frightened him was that the whole law and 
nation of the Jews seemed to be against Jesus. 

The chief priests made it appear that this was no fac- 
tional quarrel. There were no parties; all were on the 
same side, priests, council, Sadducees, Pharisees, elders, 
people — and their sacred law. This unnerved Pilate, 
and for a moment he seemed ready to throw Jesus to the 
Jews, as if throwing meat to hounds. But another fear 
haunted him, and it was suggested forcibly by their very 
accusation: "He made Himself the Son of God." He 
had all along felt that perhaps His prisoner was really 
some celestial personage. A perfect hero of calm forti- 
tude He surely was. Might He not be more than that — 
something even divine ? He had learned, through Herod's 



174 Jesus Before Pilate. 

action that morning, that Jesus had worked many won- 
ders, and He had certainly been a powerful religious 
leader. Pilate, in fact, was afraid of Jesus, as well as 
of the Jews. He, therefore, drew Him back into the in- 
ner apartment to question Him. Happy for Pilate had 
he done so inspired purely by love of justice; but it was 
only to search for some new way out of his embarrass- 
ment. "Whence art Thou ?" As if to say : Art thou a 
god? Canst Thou not destroy Thy enemies by a thun- 
derbolt? 

Jesus, knowing Pilate's motives, answered Him not a 
word. This course of our Redeemer was not adopted 
out of contempt for Pilate — by no means; but because 
miraculous power was now barred from Him, and all 
other expedients were futile, even supernaturally per- 
suasive arguments, truths, appeals to reason. Had not 
Jesus said when first questioned that morning: "Every 
one that is of the truth heareth My voice"? and none 
others will hear it. Pilate needed not miracles but 
courage. As to the Jews, men frenzied with rage, why 
argue with them about their law ? Jesus had summarized 
that law long before : "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God 
above all things, and thy neighbor as thyself" (Matt, 
xxii. 37). Love is the whole law and the prophets, and 
love is Jesus' only law ; as to His enemies, hate was their 
only law that day. 

Pilate had been always angry with the Jews, and now 
he is also irritated at our Savior for His silence. "I 
have power to crucify Thee," he exclaimed, and "Speak- 
est Thou not to me?" — as if death were not a boon to* 
Jesus after the disgrace He had suffered. But Jesus re- 
turned mildness for anger, and calmly gave Pilate an 



Pilate Rebukes Jesus for His Silence. 175 

admonition of great benefit if he had but accepted it: 
"Thou shouldst not have any power against Me unless 
it were given thee from above." As if to say, Thou shalt 
yet answer for thy decision of My case to a divine au- 
thority, infinitely higher than Jewish or even Roman. 
Pilate reckoned with the Jews and with Caesar ; he walked 
in their sight. Jesus ever regarded the Divine Will; it 
was always His meat and drink (John iv. 34), and es- 
pecially in this His supreme hour. 

Hence (as if to say) I look beyond and above you 
to the sovereign power of My Father. I am always 
thinking of Him and of His work. I know His purpose 
in Me ; it is for Me to be crucified and not to be released. 

Thus there shines in our Redeemer's darkened spirit 
a ray of divine faith, a virtue which sees the hand of a 
loving Providence in the worst no less than in the best 
of our fortunes. God's permission of our sufferings is 
His pledge to reward our patience in bearing them. In 
His every pain Jesus saw the stern purpose of His Father 
to ransom our race by His own Son's passion and death. 
From Pilate and the Jews who together killed Him, 
down to the obscurest legionary who spat in His face, 
He regarded His enemies as instruments of an infinitely 
loving Providence. He ardently desired to suffer death 
because He loved His Father's will far better than life. 
His natural love of life was thus overcome by a higher 
love. "Why should He fear who wished not to escape ?" 
says St. Ambrose. 

With how perfect a resignation did Jesus thus turn 
to the original mover of all His woes, His Father, offer- 
ing Him meanwhile a love for sinners truly divine. With 
what reverence did He adore God, who could so love the 



176 Jesus Before Pilate. 

world of sinners as to give His only-begotten Son for 
their salvation, give Him up to such a cruel fate as this. 
What a continual and incalculable increase of love and 
admiration for His Father did His every pang bestow 
upon His human soul, knowing as He did that His 
Father, beholding all this shameful, this agonizing pro- 
cess of His Son's atonement, yet held steadfastly to His 
purpose, that we should be redeemed in a manner worthy 
of our state as His sons, worthy of our immortal destiny 
in His bosom. 

That, according to some, was what Jesus meant by 
the words, "power from above," which had placed Him 
in Pilate's hands; or rather had abandoned Him totally, 
as far as "second causes" are concerned. How sorely He 
felt this, and how absolutely He submitted we see at 
every step in His passion. Friends of the earth were 
either paralyzed by fear, or, like Mary and John, were 
helpless to aid Him. Friends of heaven, the mighty an- 
gels, were held back by His dire compact with His Father 
to dispense with heavenly succors. To the cowardly Ro- 
man let Him turn — oh, how vainly ! To the bloodthirsty 
Jews — "Crucify Him!" is their response. To the heav- 
enly throne — it is hidden in the darkness which had set- 
tled on His soul with the shades of evening the day be- 
fore. Only God in the obscure night of pure faith is left 
Him. 

He protects Me, though He abandons Me, thought 
our Lord. He conquers by Me, though I am overthrown 
and ruined. He is present with Me, though I feel but 
despondency within Me, and Pilate and the ravening 
Jews are around about Me. And I love My Father 
through it all. I love Him, though He fills Me with bit- 



Pilate Rebukes Jesus for His Silence. 177 

terness. I trust Him, though He has forsaken Me. He 
smites Me as if I were the foremost among the damned, 
and I yet know that He loves Me, and that He forgives 
and saves sinners just in proportion to the rigor of His 
punishment of Me; for all this He does because He has 
appointed Me their Redeemer. 

How plain a lesson does this teach us. Between 
God's will and man's will my soul is constantly balancing, 
but especially in times of trial. And as Jesus dealt not so 
much with Pilate and the Jews as with His Father, so 
Christians following His example, and under the influ- 
ence of His grace, are less concerned with the malice of 
their persecutors than w T ith their own submission to the 
Divine Will. "Be ye humbled, therefore, under the 
mighty hand of God" (I. Peter v. 6), says St. Peter; 
mighty and loving is our heavenly Father, never so much 
so as when chastening the child He loves. 

Jesus added to His admonition to Pilate a few words 
whose meaning is somewhat obscure : "Therefore, he 
that hath delivered Me to thee hath the greater sin." 
They may be interpreted as follows : Pilate, indeed, had 
not sought to commit this murder; it had been thrust on 
him. In this Providence had permitted him a glorious op- 
portunity. Who can imagine the glory of Pontius Pilate 
if he had been a true Roman and an upright judge in the 
trial of Jesus ? The same power from on high was even 
yet striving by every inner and outer influence of good 
to thus place him in the highest position among all judges 
and rulers from the beginning of the world to the end. 
But he was wilfully unequal to the test. Meanwhile 
those who had delivered Jesus to him were more positively 
culpable and more gravely so. They had long sought to 



178 Jesus Before Pilate. 

put Him to death. They were conspirators against Him 
from the first beginnings of His public career. They had 
the greater sin, because they hated Jesus with deliberate 
rancor, long cherished malignity. They had thereby 
committed murder in their hearts long before this ; even 
as chief priests and judges in Israel. And that very 
morning, in their court, they had deliberately slain Him 
with their tongues. Pilate was, indeed, their partner in 
guilt; but his share of it was cowardice, and theirs was 
malignant hate. As between the Roman and the Jew, 
the blood of the innocent victim was upon the Roman by 
his sin of timidity, and upon the Jew by malicious and 
positive purpose. Therefore, the Jew had the greater sin. 



Chapter X. 
Pilate Delivers Jesus Up to be Crucified. 

And from thenceforth Pilate sought to release Him. But the 
Jews cried out, saying: If thou release this Man, thou art not 
Caesar's friend; for whosoever maketh himself a king, speaketh 
against Csesar. Now when Pilate had heard these words, he 
brought Jesus forth, and sat down in the judgment seat, in the 
place that is called Lithostrotos, and in Hebrew Gabbatha. And 
it was the parasceve of the Pasch, about the sixth hour, and he 
saith to the Jews : Behold your King ! But they cried out : Away 
with Him ! Away with Him ! Crucify Him ! Pilate saith to 
them: Shall I crucify your King? The chief priests answered: 
We have no king but Caesar. Then, therefore, he delivered Him 
to them to be crucified (John xix. 12-16). 

The three parties in this great drama in Pilate's 
court, and their various motives and conduct, are the in- 
cessant study of all thoughtful spirits. Let us, as we ap- 
proach the end, mark well the differences between them. 
There are the Jews : their incredible hate, their obstinacy, 
their wild clamor, their fierce threats. Pilate ; temporiz- 
ing, managing, compromising — from cowardice- Jesus: 
patiently suffering every infliction — from motives of the 
most disinterested love. 

We have seen that our Savior's words, though few, 
were not without effect upon Pilate. He "sought to re- 
lease" Jesus, as he had done several times before; but in 
no different spirit, and with no other result. He was 
what he was, a temporizer. How often it happens that 
the advocates of justice are like Pilate, wavering, full of 



180 Jesus Before Pilate. 

plans and pleadings, compromises and expedients — soon 
to be swept away by the downright energy of the advo- 
cates of wrong — direct, earnest, outspoken — knowing 
what they want and bound to have it, working together 
as one man. 

The harder Pilate struggled to save Jesus, the more 
earnest were the Jews to have him put Him to death. 
Their malice is whetted by Pilate's pity. The kindly vir- 
tues, indeed, are of little force unless moved by a positive 
conscience. And Pilate's desire to save Jesus, was it 
worthy the name of a virtue ? Could you call his coward- 
ly defence of Jesus the act of a conscientious man ? It w r as 
rather the struggle between fear of the Jews and fear 
of the gloomy tyrant whom he served, the Emperor Ti- 
berius. 

The criminal purpose of the Jews grew stronger with 
opposition. Why was not Pilate's virtue also made 
stronger by opposition ? Because his fear of doing wrong 
was not as strong as the Jews' determination to have him 
crucify Jesus. In the conflict between fear of the Em- 
peror on one side, and hatred of Jesus on the other, the 
latter was more violent and persistent, and it won the 
day. In all this there is a very practical lesson for those 
who are appointed to defend the right. 

How long Pilate parleyed with the Jews, at this clos- 
ing period of the trial, we cannot tell. But the evangelist 
gives us the end : "The Jews cried out, saying : If thou 
release this Man thou art not Caesar's friend; for who- 
soever maketh himself a king, speaketh against Caesar." 
Jesus had invoked upon Pilate a higher power — Almighty 
God; the Jews now threatened him with another higher 
power — Tiberius Caesar. This was really the decisive 



Pilate Delivers Jesus Up to be Crueifted. 181 

stroke ; the trial was over. Caesar was Pilate's higher and 
highest power. "When he heard these words, he brought 
Jesus forth and sat down in the judgment seat." But, 
true to his character, he hesitated yet again, doubtless 
now without the least hope of saving his prisoner. It was 
rather to annoy those whom he dared not defy, that, 
pointing to the wretched figure of Jesus, and in a sort of 
terrible raillery, he "saith to the Jews: Behold your 
King!" 

Jesus was thus once more displayed publicly and of- 
fered to the Jews as their King. And He heard their 
answering cry; it was flung fiercely into His face, and 
ascended to the throne above : "Away with Him !" It is 
a savage yell. And once is not enough; as it explodes 
from their hearts of bitterness it is repeated venomously : 
"Away with Him! Away with Him! Crucify Him!" 
Pilate taunted them again : "Shall I crucify your King?" 
This stung them to the quick and led them on to their 
worst act of apostasy ; they proclaimed their formal abdi- 
cation of racial independence: "We have no king but 
Caesar." They were now on an equal footing with the 
pagan governor. 

"We have no king but Caesar"; neither has Pilate. 
All the enemies of Jesus stand now on common ground ; 
and the chief priests of God's people make over their race 
and nation to the heathen and to their Emperor. 

How weak is Pilate's plea, how quick the verdict of 
the Jews, and how cruel. The threat, "Thou art no friend 
of Caesar's," makes Pilate tremble. It is the last stroke; 
it starts Jesus on the way of the cross. "We have no king 
but Caesar," spoken by the chief priests, makes the 
strength of imperial Rome the right hand of the iniquity 



1 82 Jesus Before Pilate. 

of the Jews. "Then, therefore, he delivered Him to them 
to be crucified." 

And so the trial ended. The last word of the prosecu- 
tion was public homage to Caesar as the only king of the 
Jews, paid as the price of the crucifixion of Jesus of 
Nazareth.* 

"We have no king but Caesar." There spoke the Sad- 
ducees, traitors to their country, as they were apostates 
to their religion. This exclamation would seem a blunder 
on their part, for it was calculated to antagonize the 
Pharisees, the leaders of the patriotic party, and so divide 
counsels among the conspirators. But not so : the Phari- 
sees acquiesced. They would accept any king but Jesus. 
Their very instincts taught them that His spirit of in- 
terior worship of God and of compassion for sinners 
would supplant them in the affections of all true Israel- 
ites. The Pharisees stood against Him from fanaticism 
and envy, the Sadducees from worldliness and scepticism. 
The alliance was ill-sorted, but it stood firm to the end. 

The abdication of Jewish national independence was 
destined to be perpetual. After they had rejected Jesus 
and crowned Him with thorns, and then had stood up 
for Caesar as againt their God-given King, the Jews put 
the crown of Israel's royalty on Caesar's brow. There it 

*We know what happened to the Jews at the hands of the Caesars. A 
similar fate, though not so tragical, has befallen many Christian sects which 
have appealed to the civil authority to aid their revolt against God's Church, 
her doctrine or her discipline. Most of the Protestant denominations at 
and after the division of Christendom, in the sixteenth century, have pur- 
chased the assistance of the secular power against the Church, sometimes 
even against one another, by surrendering their spiritual independence, ex- 
changing thereby the rule of popes or prelates or synods for that of kings 
and their ministers. And frequently what was meant to be only a tem- 
porary alliance with secular rulers, has fastened the usurpation of the 
State over religion upon a whole people for generations. 



Pilate Delivers Jesus Up to be Crucified. 183 

has remained ever since, an iron crown of relentless 
hatred of their race. Every Caesar, great or little, from 
that day to this, has ruled the Jews as he would not rule 
his slaves. And this in turn has driven the race sullenly 
back upon itself, perpetuating its narrowness of soul and 
deepening its aversion for Christ and His religion. On 
the other hand, a kindlier rule has often had the effect 
of broadening the Jewish mind and softening its aver- 
sions, and has often led to a calm consideration of the 
claims of Jesus, and resulted in many conversions of 
Jews to the Christian faith. 

Till recent times this kindly treatment of the Jews 
has been almost unknown, and it is even yet exceptional. 
Kings that are fatherly to their own people are tyrants 
over the Jews. Peoples, remarkable for gentleness of 
nature, hate and oppress the Jews. Even though they 
speak the same language and live in the same country 
with another race, they are made to feel that they are not 
at home. The most distinctly marked of all the families 
of mankind, the Jews are scattered throughout all lands, 
literally a dispersed people. They are to this day exiles 
in regions which have known them for ages, denizens 
and not citizens, familiar and yet strange. The blood of 
Christ, humanity's sweetest boon, is their self-inflicted 
curse. And the traits that led their chief priests to con- 
demn Him, and Judas to betray Him, are yet considered 
to be their peculiar characteristics — craft and avarice. 
Deceitfulness and love of money — the Jews are deemed 
to excel all mankind in these odious vices. If, therefore, 
they are weak and suffering, they are despised and un- 
pitied. If they are strong, they are hated and feared; 
never loved, never trusted, whether by Christian, Turk 
or pagan. Men see the cruel wretch Caiaphas in every 



184 Jesus Before Pilate. 

rich Jew, and the greedy traitor Judas in every Jew of 
the baser sort. 

Such was the portent in their cry : We have no king 
but Caesar; away with Jesus and crucify Him! Away 
with Him! Away with all the promises made to Abra- 
ham and the Fathers for our sakes. Away with the royal 
Son of David, our prophet, priest and king. Cruel and 
idolatrous Caesar is our only king now and forevermore. 
The blood of Jesus be upon us, and the spilling of that 
blood we will bequeath to our children, as their most 
precious heirloom. No race of atheists or pagans shall 
be so perfectly anti-Christian as ours. 

God had formed the children of Israel to perpetuate 
His promises as in a living book of human beings. Their 
ancestors and children were ever on their lips and in their 
hearts. He had made them essentially a perpetual people, 
standing for the everlasting God, a rainbow in the sky of 
nations. They were a covenant of love and of mercy to 
all mankind. And when the day of fulfilment came, they 
undertook to absorb for themselves alone the entire 
benignity of the Creator for the whole human family, a 
crime of inconceivable pride. 

Of all the crimes ever committed, what one equals 
the slaying of Jesus Christ for preaching equal salvation 
to all men and nations? What crime has reached in its 
shame to so remote an age? God perpetuates His justice 
in the sorrows of the race that would not permit Him, 
if murder could prevent it, to perpetuate His mercy to 
all races of men to the end of time. 

And yet the crime of the Jews is but typical of every 
sin against God. Every sin reverses an eternal order of 
love, and establishes a reign of perpetual treason. What 
can stop the onward flow of bitterness that is begun in 



Pilate Delivers Jesus Up to be Crucified. 185 

the malice of every sin ? Only the miracle of divine par- 
don. 

Jesus knew all the future misery of His kinsmen as 
clearly as He knew their present apostasy. And the fu- 
ture pained Him as intensely as the present. St. Paul 
said of the Jews: "I have great sadness and continual 
sorrow in my heart. For I wished myself to be an anath- 
ema from Christ, for my brethren, who are my kinsmen 
according to the flesh" (Rom. ix. 3). Our Redeemer 
actually suffered the anathema of God for His brethren 
and kinsmen, and He will not permit His sufferings to 
be finally in vain. He has never ceased to love His peo- 
ple. Let us look for the supreme wonders of the love of 
Christ, not in what God has done or will do for the Gen- 
tiles, but in the conversion of His own nation. Hear the 
inspired promise of St. Paul, not more truly the Apostle 
of the Gentiles than he was the foremost lover of the 
Jews: "For I would not have you ignorant, brethren/' 
says he to his Gentile converts, "of this mystery (lest you 
should be wise in your own conceits), that blindness in 
part has happened in Israel, until the fulness of the Gen- 
tiles should come in. And so all Israel should be saved. 
. . . As concerning the Gospel, indeed, they are 
enemies for your sake ; but as touching the election, they 
are most dear for the sake of the fathers. For the gifts 
and the calling of God are without repentance" (Rom. 
xi. 25-29). 

And let us remember our part in making this blessed 
prophesy true. Our part is kindness to the Jews person- 
ally, a charitable defense of them in our conversation 
among ourselves, fervent prayers for their conversion in 
our devotions, and a ready effort to practically lift from 



1 86 Jesus Before Pilate 

their hearts the veil that yet hinders them from seeing 
Christ as their King and their Redeemer, which He really 
is, even more truly, if possible, than He is our own. 

In a short hour after Jesus heard the dreadful cry: 
"Away with Him ! Crucify Him !" He will come to His 
death agony, and He will cry out to His Father with a 
resistless intensity of feeling: "Father forgive them! ,, 
And we are entirely certain that at this very moment in 
heaven Jesus has a special grace for those of His Gentile 
followers who pray as He did for the Jews, His kinsmen^ 
and labor for their conversion. 

Meanwhile our own prayer to heaven is in the same 
words as the Jewish people's imprecation upon them- 
selves, but offered in the very opposite spirit. Thy blood 
be upon me, O Jesus ! And what shall I say ? My blood 
be upon Thee? Nay, it is upon Thee now, my sins are 
upon Thee, my fate is in Thy hands and in Thy heart, 
bleeding with love's wounds for me. 

Jesus says to me : 'Tut Me as a seal upon thy heart, 
as a seal upon thy arm" (Cant. viii. 6). O Jesus crucified, 
may Thy blood be upon me as a sign and a badge ! May 
it be upon my outward life because Thy love is within 
my soul, signifying the deepest gratitude to Thee, and 
the most steadfast loyalty in all my affections. And may 
Thy blood be upon my children, namely, upon all my 
works and words, and ever redden with its glorious 
merit the whole stream of my life. May that seal of Thy 
blood be at last a shining mark upon me, to place me 
among those of whom it is said : "These are they who are 
come out of great tribulation, and have washed their 
robes, and have made them white in the blood of the 
Lamb" (Apoc. vii. 14). 



PART IV. 

The Way of the Cross. 
Chapter I. 

The Cross. 

Then therefore [Pilate] delivered Him to them to be cruci- 
fied. And they took Jesus, and they took off the purple cloak 
from Him, and put His own garments on Him, and they led 
Him out to crucify Him. And bearing His own cross He went 
forth. And there were also two other malefactors led with Him 
to be put to death (Matt, xxvii. 31; Mark xv. 20; Luke xxiii. 
25, 32; John xix. 16) 

When we come to the occurrences after our Savior's 
death, it will be noticed that Pilate then said to the chief 
priests : "You have a guard." This indicates that they 
were given direct charge of the execution of Jesus, and 
that the soldiers, after the sentence was passed, looked to 
them for orders. This is further indicated by the evan- 
gelist's expression, "He (Pilate) delivered Him to them 
to be crucified." 

Nothing could please the chief priests better than to 
have Jesus crucified by the Romans under their direction. 
Their joy was frantic when at last they had Him in their 
power. Doubtless a great cheer went up. Victory ! Vic- 
tory over our enemy! Yet they were trembling with 
anxiety ; the sentence must be instantly carried out. They 
were still afraid that something might intervene. Pilate, 
might even yet change his mind, and they did not forget 
our Redeemer's former miracles. They therefore hurried 
on the preparations. As their purpose from the begin- 



1 88 The Way of the Cross, 

ning had been crucifixion, it is possible that they had 
ordered the cross prepared beforehand. 

They are impatient at the delay of Pilate in writing 
the inscription to be hung around Jesus' neck as He 
journeys forth : "J esus °f Nazareth, King of the Jews" ; 
and their hurry may account for their not noticing its 
terms and protesting against them till later on. They 
are also impatient at the delay caused by getting ready 
the "other malefactors." Hurry, hurry! Oh, that He 
were at last hung high on His Roman gibbet. It is al- 
ready noonday — who knows but Pilate may yet revoke 
the sentence ? 

Jesus and the cross are at last together. We think 
He must have pressed it to His heart and affectionately 
kissed it, as His guards gave it to Him. His outward 
eyes see their stern faces ; those cruel men who have but 
recently mocked and outraged Him are now giving Him 
His cross. But His inward eyes behold His Father, 
Jesus receives His cross from the hand of God. 

The pagan orator, Cicero, said of the cross that it 
was not so much as to be named by a freeman. Not so 
to Jesus, not so to us. "God forbid that I should glory, 
save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ ; by whom the 
world is crucified to me, and I to the world" (Gal. vi. 14). 
If that was the mind of the Apostle, how much rather 
was it the mind of his Master ? 

And yet Jesus felt all the disgrace of it. History tells 
us of Andre, the British officer who was hung as a spy 
in the American Revolution, how he implored his cap- 
tors that he might die like a soldier and be shot to death. 
He was indescribably angered and distressed to die by 
the halter, as if he were a midnight assassin, or had raped 
an innocent girl, crimes he loathed and hence loathed 



The Cross. 189 

their peculiar penalty. It was for every murder and 
rape, treason and ingratitude that men were ever guilty 
of, that Jesus was to die. He felt that the shame of such 
a fate was fitly shown by this kind of death, and the in- 
strument selected to inflict it. All this feeling of aversion 
did His love for us overcome, when He gladly took up 
His cross and started forward to Calvary. 

The fetters are loosened from our Savior's limbs ; the 
purple garment of ridicule is removed — He must be 
clothed in His own garments and known now as Him- 
self ; the cross will be shame enough. Quickly, therefore, 
He is again stripped naked and once more resumes His 
own clothes. He is now ready for His last journey. 
They could not prepare for it too quickly for Him. Quick, 
quick ! loosen these handcuffs ; my hands love them well, 
but they love the nails better. Take from Me this 
sceptre of reed; it served Me well, but the cross is My 
true and eternal sceptre. Take this red cloak of con- 
tempt; it served Me well, but now give Me My own 
clothes, help Me to put them on ; now I am ready. Doubt- 
less He said not all this in words, but such were His 
thoughts. Nor would Pilate delay. He had washed his 
hands of the whole bitter business. From early morning 
till near noon he had spent the time, terrorized from with- 
out, agonized from within, wrangling with these wild 
creatures about this curious wretch of a Rabbi. 

It was the Hebrew sixth hour of the day, or noon- 
time, when Jesus was thus prepared for His last journey, 
being clad in His own clothes, about to take up His own 
cross, His name and title hanging from His neck. He 
must have felt well-nigh totally exhausted, after all that 
He had undergone. But when He saw His cross, noth- 



190 The Way of the Cross. 

ing was impossible to His courage and His fortitude. To 
Him it was not a shameful gibbet; it was the chosen 
symbol of His tenderest love. But it was hard to carry; 
at best and by its very shape and size an unwieldy object, 
not easy to manage if a man were fresh and robust, and 
He was worn out by the sufferings already endured. It 
was heavy because it was framed of strong timbers in- 
tended to bear a man's weight securely — a heavy, crush- 
ing load Jesus finds it as He gets it upon His shoulder. 
When He begins to move forward He can no more than 
totter along under it; He is grieved to find His bodily 
forces almost spent. 

As we see Him thus burdened, our hearts should be 
crushed with anguish, knowing that He took this death 
instrument upon Him in order that He might save us 
from an unhappy death — painfully to carry it, slowly to 
die upon it for our eternal welfare. But Jesus was glad 
of His cross, though He knew that His enemies had 
chosen it for its degrading associations. Indeed, that 
palliated their guilt in His eyes; they had selected for 
Him what would be His own choice, had He been free 
to choose the instrument of the world's salvation. 

The greatest triumph of a champion is to enter the 
conflict unarmed and, as his antagonist would strike him, 
instantly to seize his sword, wrest it out of his hands and 
slay him with his own weapon. The enemy of mankind 
smote our champion with the cross, and with the cross 
Jesus has conquered him and won for us an everlasting 
victory. 

Taking up His cross was to Jesus literally a new de- 
parture in His work of atonement. As He had done at 
entering the Garden of Olives, so now, as He starts 



The Cross. 191 

toward Calvary, He forms His intention anew to be our 
Redeemer and His Father's atoning Son. Ever since 
He began His passion, His soul felt crushed by the 
weight of our sins, His memory defiled by them, His un- 
derstanding insulted and blasphemed. It relieved His 
soul to feel His body now placed under the same weight ; 
the whole Man is at last to be given up in sacrifice for 
love of His race. How tenderly He fixed His eyes upon 
the cross. His heart was already nailed to it. 

The cross has ever meant the sweetest joy to Chris- 
tians, especially to dying Christians; but to Jesus, about 
to die upon it, it was indeed the power of God and the 
wisdom of God (I. Cor. i. 18, 24) ; the power of God to 
save us from all the force of demons or men, the wisdom 
of God to detect and expose every fraud of the ancient 
serpent and his brood. 

Jesus would call it, My cross; Mine by every true 
title, the ensign of My most splendid victory, the victory 
of My gentle love over men's furious hate; the chosen 
sign of My tenderest affection for My worst enemies — 
My cross, the test of My friendship's uttermost fidelity. 

He whose life was the most precious under heaven 
was anxious to give it up on the cross. He hindered no 
cruelty that might deprive Him of it, He allowed every- 
thing that might hasten His loss of it. And with what 
supernal wisdom, since to lose His life was to find it 
again united in immortal life with myriads of ransomed 
brethren. Does not this reprove our over-anxious care 
of our bodily health ? Does it not justly modify our views 
of the horrors of death ? 

The lessons here to be learned are manifold. One of 
them is the glory of the virtue of fortitude. Jesus' bodily 



192 The Way of the Cross. 

strength might fail, as indeed it did, but not His deter- 
mined purpose. His courage never faltered. He never 
for an instant flinched ; and the very perfection of His 
mental determination was in the act of shouldering the 
beam on which He knew He was shortly to be nailed for 
His death. Therefore, neither should we lose courage 
w T hen the cross is laid heavy upon us, even crushing us 
to the earth. Helpless in everything else, we can and we 
ought to be determined in our heart's resolve. We are 
men of Christ and we can make our cross His. He bore 
His cross for us, He died on it for our sakes. Let us say 
with the Apostle: "I can do all things in Him who 
strengtheneth me" (Phil. iv. 13). 

God grant us the grace to love our sorrows as His 
Son loved His cross. Patience in affliction and under ad- 
versity brings peace in strife, solace in pain, and above 
all else, secure hope of pardon for sin. 

Another lesson is this : As Jesus loved His cross, in 
the very same degree did He love His enemies. Now I 
say well and piously : In the cross is my only hope. Will 
I add sincerely that the spirit of the cross of Christ shall 
dictate my only method of dealing with my adversaries? 
We may easily summarize the reasons why Jesus 
loved the death of the cross by preference. His enemies 
chose it for Him, both Jews and Gentiles, and He pre- 
ferred to do their bidding rather than His own, saving 
them by the means they themselves had chosen. Again, 
it was one of the most cruel deaths possible to die, and 
the most execrable : "Cursed is every one that hangeth 
on a tree" (Deut. xxi. 25; Gal. iii. 13). Thus the cross 
proved to Jesus better than any miracle He ever wrought 
how much His Father loved the world (John iii. 16). 



The Cross. 193 

Furthermore, it was a conspicuous kind of death, even 
spectacular, dying in dreadful agonies in mid-air. Jesus 
would be seen lifted up between earth and heaven, dying 
and dead for sinners in sight of the whole universe. Once 
more, the cross affords Him and His Church forever a 
unique emblem of atoning love, a sign and a standard of 
striking appearance, the crucifix — the Redeemer raised 
high above the world in His death, arms outstretched and 
hands uplifted. From that hour to the end of the world, 
every sacrament and every other spiritual gift, little or 
great, shall be imparted to mankind by Holy Church with 
this sign. Finally, as Adam ruined the race by the fruit 
of the tree of sin, so Christ would save it by the fruit of 
the tree of love : "Death by the tree, life by the cross," 
says St. Ambrose. Holy Church, in her Good Friday 
services, would have us imagine the wood of this instru- 
ment of our redemption growing in the Garden of Eden, 
and chosen on the spot and at the hour of our downfall, 
the tree predestinated for our Redeemer's cross. 

"He, our Maker, deeply grieving 

That our parent Adam fell, 
When he ate the fruit forbidden, 

Whose reward was death and hell, 
Marked e'en then this tree, the ruin 

Of the first tree to dispel." 

"Faithful cross, O tree of all trees, 

Thou dost firsthand 'peerless shine; 
Not a grove on earth can show us 

Such a flower and leaf as thine; 
Sweet the wood and sweet the iron, 

Sweet thy burden so divine." 



Chapter II. 
Simon Helps Jesus to Carry the Cross. 

And as they led Him away, they laid hold on one Simon 
of Cyrene, coming from the country, the father of Alexander 
and of Rufus, whom they forced to take up His cross; and they 
laid the cross on him to carry after Jesus (Matt, xxvii. $2\ 
Mark xv. 21; Luke xxiii. 26). 

After the soldiers had helped Jesus to place His shoul- 
der under the cross, at the point where the upright piece 
and the cross-beam were joined, the word of command 
was given, and the way of the cross began. 

A great multitude immediately surrounded Him and 
His guards, as, accompanied by the "two other male- 
factors," He started forward. Vast as was that multi- 
tude, to the eye of Jesus it was no more than a little dust 
compared to the sand on the seashore, for He saw all the 
generations of men going with Him to Calvary to be re- 
deemed. 

The soldiers forced a passage through the dense mass 
of people, many of whom were amazed and confounded 
at such a sight, many others wildly shouting out their 
triumph and bitterly insulting Jesus. He must have felt 
deeply distressed at this, standing as He did for our fallen 
nature, and at the same time representing His heavenly 
Father. Yet we doubt, as we have already intimated, if 
this feeling had the mastery in His soul. With all His 
sense of degradation, He was glad to be moving onward 
to His death for us. He willingly "endured the cross, 



Simon Helps Jesus to Carry the Cross, 195 

despising the shame," knowing, too, that the example He 
set us in bearing it would hinder us from being "wearied 
and fainting" in our minds (Heb. xii. 2, 3), when bur- 
dened with life's cares or afflicted with the penalties of 
our sins. Except for the darkness of His spirit and the 
extreme feebleness of His body, ..Jesus, we surmise, 
would have found the way of the cross the least painful 
part of His passion. 

How very much is meant by those words : "Bearing 
His own cross He went forth." Wearied and broken with 
pain of body and grief of soul, Jesus struggles forward, 
the end of the cross dragging along the ground behind 
Him. The road is rough and His steps are difficult; every 
stone the cross strikes jolts it and shocks His wounded 
nerves. 

Although He loved that burden, it was indeed a heavy 
one to Him in His exhausted condition. He was once as 
strong a man as any workman in Galilee, whether to lift 
a weight, carry a load, or for any other bodily exertion. 
Not so now ; His bodily force was nearly gone. Yet He 
did not faint from first to last on His journey; no great 
distance in itself, but interminable to Him. There is an 
ancient tradition that He fell more than once on the w r ay, 
and the Gospel tells us that He needed assistance soon 
after starting forward. 

Jesus soon fell, and the guards forced a stranger 
named Simon of Cyrene to help Him carry His cross. 
No wonder He fell. He was weakened by the Agony in 
the Garden and the bloody sweat, by the cruel treatment 
over night in the house of Caiaphas, the scourging and the 
crowning with thorns, the painful journeys He had al- 
ready made, the total lack of nourishment since the 



196 The Way of the Cross. 

Paschal supper, the lack of sleep, and above all by grief 
of heart. 

Yet we can hardly suppose that Jesus easily allowed 
Simon to help Him. He loved His cross too well for 
that, and He was jealous of the honor of carrying it. No 
miser ever loved gold as Jesus loved that wood. But He 
could not carry it alone, He must yield a share of it to 
another. It was very large; we know that it was cer- 
tainly more than ten feet long, perhaps as much as fifteen, 
for when it was fixed in the ground and He was hanging 
on it, a reed was necessary in order to reach His mouth 
with the sponge full of vinegar. So the weight of the 
great gibbet soon bore Jesus down. He must receive help 
if He is to get to Calvary with it. 

We may imagine how they treated Him, those heart- 
less men, when they saw in Him signs of failing; His 
panting breath, His tottering steps, and at last His fall 
to the ground. How does a brutal driver treat his over- 
loaded beast? He curses him and beats him along till he 
drops. So did these soldiers treat Jesus. They were the 
very ones who had mocked Him and spit in His face and 
crowned Him in Pilate's hall within an hour. They 
thought much less of Him than any man does of an ani- 
mal. They kicked Him as He lay under His cross, and 
dragged Him gasping upon His feet. But they must pro- 
vide Him a helper — they were hurried on by the Jews; 
the criminal might die on the way ; their dinner hour had 
come. But whom could they get? 

Jesus was aided by no willing friend. Only weak 
women dared avow friendship for Him on that journey. 
There are no volunteers. The only willing cross-bearer 
that day is Jesus Himself. The time will come when 



Simon Helps Jesus to Carry the Cross. 197 

millions of willing souls, men, women and even children, 
will crowd forward everywhere to die martyrs for His 
faith and for His cross. But that must be only after 
Pentecost. On Good Friday many an honest Jew, rather 
than so much as touch the cross of Jesus of Nazareth, 
would have suffered death. No Roman soldier would 
stoop to help Him, though the dregs of all nations were 
enrolled in the legions. But the eye of the officer in 
charge lighted on a strongly built man in the crowd, 
seemingly a stranger, curiously observing the procession. 
This was Simon of Cyrene. 

And who and what was Simon? From his sons' 
names, and for other reasons, he is supposed to have 
been a Jew of the dispersion, just arrived for the pass- 
over. Or he may have been a humble Hebrew country- 
man — "coming from the country" — whom Providence 
thus selected to be co-bearer with Jesus of the cross of 
our redemption. He was a stalwart man, and his dress 
showed him to be a peasant and a stranger, and for these 
reasons they could inflict the indignity on him with the 
more impunity. They must have threatened him — "they 
laid hold on him"; they forced him to help our Savior, 
perhaps they struck him and dragged him up to Him, and 
goaded him with their spears. 

It was a horrible shock to Simon. He had been ab- 
sorbed in looking at that poor figure, lying flat on the 
ground, bleeding, dreadfully beaten, and with a strange 
circle of thorn branches about his temples. Who is He ? 
What does it all mean? What a disgusting and hideous 
object. He must be some awful criminal, carrying His 
own gibbet to death ; for a countless multitude of people 
join the soldiers in violent words and insults against Him. 



198 The Way of the Cross. 

And, worst of all, here are the chief priests themselves, 
leading and commanding His execution. As Simon 
thinks these things, and perhaps begins to ask questions 
about them, what is his dismay to be suddenly griped 
by two or three soldiers and dragged forward with dread- 
ful threats, compelled to help the criminal to carry that 
cross ? 

But a change came over him when he met the glances 
of Jesus and doubtless heard a few gentle words of 
thanks : I thank thee, Simon, for helping Me with My 
cross. I beg thee not to believe that I am a bad man, a 
robber, a blasphemer, or any way deserving of this fate. 
Thou shalt never be the worse for this journey with Me. 
Our priests and our countrymen are wholly mistaken 
about Me. Come, let us go on together quickly. Thus 
may Jesus have spoken as the guards lifted Him from the 
ground and He and Simon took the cross upon their 
shoulders. And He may have added: I am Jesus of 
Nazareth who gives the world joy through this cross. I 
am the Redeemer of mankind, and thy Redeemer, as thou 
now f eelest in thy heart. 

All Christendom has envied Simon his singular privi- 
lege, which must have made him a saint. A very certain 
tradition says the same of his two sons, Alexander and 
Rufus, mentioned in the holy narrative. 

If a single glance of Jesus instantly saved Peter, if 
one word swept Matthew immediately away from his 
money tables, how easy for Jesus to change the loathing 
of Simon into the most ardent affection by speaking to 
him a few words as he takes a share of the very cross 
itself. 

Happy Simon ! Blessed day when thou earnest into 



Simon Helps Jesus to Carry the Cross. 199 

the city from thy country home to worship at the Paschal 
solemnities. In paradise itself, our Redeemer will say of 
thee : This is Simon of Cyrene, the man who came to My 
help when I was crushed beneath My cross on the way 
to Calvary. 

And if one objects that Simon had no merit because 
he was compelled and constrained to carry the cross, I 
answer, neither had I any merit in my conversion till 
after the Lord's grace had begun to constrain me. To 
be willing to be constrained is our best merit. Is it noth- 
ing to be able to say "The charity of Christ constraineth 
us" (II. Cor. v. 14) ? I was indeed forced, Simon may 
say, but as soon as Jesus looked at me I pitied Him. And 
then He spoke to me, and, as I heard Him calling my 
name and thanking me, I thought my heart would melt 
within my breast, so much did I begin to love Him. And 
after that I had the strength of a giant for sharing His 
burden of the cross. Each one of us who bears his cross 
of pain or of disgrace manfully for Christ's sake, par- 
takes of Simon's privilege. "Let us go forth, therefore, 
to Him without the camp, bearing His reproach" (Heb. 
xiii. 13), 



Chapter III. 
The Women of Jerusalem. 

And there followed Him a great multitude of people, and of 
women, who bewailed and lamented Him. But Jesus turning 
to them said : Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not over Me ; but 
weep for yourselves and for your children. For behold, the 
days shall come wherein they will say: Blessed are the barren, 
and the wombs that have not borne, and the paps that have not 
given suck. Then shall they begin to say to the mountains : Fall 
upon us; and to the hills: Cover us. For if in the green wood 
they do these things, what shall be done in the dry? 

And they bring him into the place called Golgotha, which, 
being interpreted, is the place of Calvary (Matt, xxvii. 33; Mark 
xv. 22; Luke xxiii. 27-31; John xix. 17). 

Jesus went forth to Calvary in the sight of "a great 
multitude of people, and of women/' He was glad to see 
so many. In spirit He invited the entire race of Adam 
to go with Him on His Way of the Cross. If they but 
knew it, He had called them ever^ one to share Simon's 
place: "Unless a man deny himself, and take up his 
cross and follow Me, he is not worthy to be My disciple 
(Matt. xvi. 24). 

For the most part this was a disorderly mob of people, 
and greatly excited, going along with cries and shouts, 
insults and taunts. But the same is not to be said of the 
female portion, for these were deeply grieved and very 
reverent. They were far too numerous to be only His 
regular escort of the women of Galilee. They were, in 



The Women of Jerusalem. 201 

fact, "women of Jerusalem," his adherents and friends 
resident in the city. Among them were certainly the 
Galilean women, held, no doubt, in high honor by their 
sisters of the city. And we cannot be mistaken in suppos- 
ing that Mary, the mother of Jesus, was with them, 
honored above them all.* 

Doubtless some were wives and daughters of the con- 
spirators themselves. Just as Pilate's wife had admon- 
ished her husband and would have saved him from his 
awful crime, so these women would wish to atone for the 
crime of their men, their city and their race. 

It was not usual for the women of Israel to be gath- 
ered in a sort of public assemblage such as they formed at 
the Way of the Cross, much less to raise their women's 
voices in open protest against the official acts of the priest- 
hood. They did it now, however, because their dearest 
friend and most fearless champion was about to be judi- 
cially murdered. If women are weaker than men, they are 
more persistent; and these, if they could not save Jesus, 
were determined at least to weep over Him publicly, and 
to console Him on His death journey. It was no easy 
thing for them to make their way to Him, and then to hold 
their place among the crowd of rough men that surged 

*We will consider Mary's part in the passion further on. But in this 
place we may quote some words of Cardinal Newman (Meditations and 
Devotions), who believes as we do that she was present with the women of 
Jerusalem in the Way of the Cross: "Mary had known Him beautiful and 
glorious, with the freshness of divine innocence and peace upon His coun- 
tenance; now she saw Him so changed and deformed that she could scarce 
have recognized Him, save for the piercing, thrilling, peace-inspiring look 
He gave her. Still, He was now carrying the load of the world's sins, and, 
all-holy though He was, He carried the image of them on His very face. 
He looked like some outcast or outlaw who had frightful guilt upon Him. 
He had been made sin for us, who knew no sin; not a feature, not a limb, 
but spoke of guilt, of a curse, of punishment, of agony." 



202 The Way of the Cross. 

along the streets. But they did it, all bathed in tears, all 
overcome with sympathy. 

He well deserved it of them. The women "bewailed 
and lamented" one who had raised high the virtues on 
which their happiness depends. He was for peace on 
earth to men of good will, and for peace making always. 
He was for patient endurance of injury, patient suffering 
of pain. He was all for meekness. He was against the 
dreadful sword and the awful glory of war — the terror 
and woe of all women, slaughtering their husbands, mak- 
ing their little ones orphans, themselves desolate widows. 
If Jesus had His way, these women knew full well that 
the only force on earth would be the sweet compulsion of 
holy love. All this the women of Jerusalem felt deeply, 
and they bewailed and lamented the bloody downfall of 
their great friend and prophet. 

To women the mission of Jesus had opened a new 
era. He had secured them a life of honor, and protection 
from men's brutal appetites. The favorite virtue of a 
woman, chastity, was the brightest jewel in His crown. 
No virtue was more prominent in Himself and in all who 
loved Him. Not even the lying malignity of the con- 
spirators had dared to accuse Jesus or His followers of 
uncleanness. He had above all honored chastity in His 
virgin mother. In her He had enthroned a most pure 
woman queen of earth and heaven, advancing their sex 
to an unheard of dignity. The shame fastened upon them 
by Eve's transgression was effaced by the second Eve, 
their sister, Mary of Nazareth, the mother of Jesus. 

Not only was He a miracle of chastity in Himself and 
His mother, but a miracle of the other extreme of virtue, 
pity for fallen women. His charity was equal to His 



The Women of Jerusalem. 203 

purity. How different in this from other men. The very 
ones who debauched women usually flung them off as the 
foulest criminals. Not so this purest of beings. He 
would not stone the adulteress, though by refusing to do 
so He risked His hold on the people ; and as He saved 
her He knew how to convert her. He would not banish 
from His invariable escort of devout women the con- 
verted harlot. To her He gave the highest honor ac- 
corded to any one on Calvary and at the resurrection, 
only excepting the queenly place of innocent womanhood 
in the person of His mother. 

And He loved what they most passionately loved, 
childhood. They flocked to Him always with their dar- 
ling little ones, to whom He gave the protection of guardi- 
an angels, and whom He proclaimed the type of all Chris- 
tian perfection. The women rightly claimed that He was 
their prophet, He was their Messias, with a meaning ten- 
fold more sweet than He was to men. 

And now, see Him ! Oh, let us bewail and lament the 
downfall of our blessed friend. He needs us, weak 
women as we are; for His Apostles have all fled from 
Him in this His hour of direst need. The very leader of 
them has sworn many oaths that he never knew Him; 
the treasurer of His little company has sold Him to His 
doom ; His Apostles and all other men have deserted Him ; 
let us be faithful. Oh, look at Him ! O God ! See Him in 
that crowd which comes pouring along from Pilate's 
palace. Oh, what agony in His face. How huge is the 
cross He staggers under. And what is that on His poor 
head ? Is it possible ! A crown of thorns ! There, He 
falls ! He falls ! And the guards are kicking Him ; now 
they drag a man, all unwilling, from the heartless crowd, 



204 The Way of the Cross. 

and force him to help carry that fearful cross. Oh, that 
we could give Him our willing help with His burden ; nay, 
could take all its weight ourselves, could set Him free 
and die in His place, or at least could join Him in His 
death. Oh, let us bewail and lament Him ; let us call to 
Him, and have Him know that if all men desert Him, 
not so the women — we will be true and we will proclaim 
our loyalty; even though the cruel chief priests put us 
out of the synagogues, even though the dreadful soldiers 
kill us. 

Thus we interpret the women of Jerusalem. We do 
not suppose that they were very highly enlightened, or 
fully understood just what He meant by the words He 
now spoke to them, and by His prophesies of what was 
in store for unhappy Israel. But Jesus knew that their 
allegiance was ardent and fearless, just as they knew He 
would be glad to see them and hear their words of sym- 
pathy; and they hoped that He would have a last mes- 
sage for them. They were not disappointed. 

He stopped in His journey; He raised His head and 
beckoned with His hand, and they ceased their loud and 
frantic weeping. For a few moments He secured silence 
from even the mob. And then He spoke to the women, 
an audience worthy of Him, souls who believed in Him, 
souls tender and true. And as they had bewailed and 
lamented Him, He bewailed and lamented them. Faith- 
ful to His divine instincts of charity, He forgot Himself 
even in that dreadful plight and He thought only of them, 
mothers and wives of the men of Jerusalem. What He 
said is His longest recorded utterance during His pas- 
sion : "Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not over Me, but 
weep for yourselves and for your children. For behold, 



The Women of Jerusalem. 205 

the days shall come wherein they will say: Blessed are 
the barren, and the wombs that have not borne, and the 
paps that have not given suck" ; and He further revealed 
to them the terrors of the siege of Jerusalem, which was 
almost literally the crucifixion of the people of Israel.* 

The beautiful incident of Veronica wiping Jesus' face 
with her napkin was, according to devout tradition, an- 
other interruption in our Redeemer's journey. Simon 
eased His bleeding shoulders, Veronica lovingly wiped 
and cleansed His sad face, stained with blood and spittle 
and sweat. Presently she is roughly thrust back into the 
crowd, not without securing two priceless gifts — -His look 
of gratitude is printed on her heart forever ; and His half- 
dying expression of face is marvelously printed on her 
napkin. But the picture of Jesus' face upon her living 
memory was more indelible than the miraculous one on 
her napkin. A sincere sympathy for Jesus, by which a 
devout soul is ever wiping and cleansing His face by 
meditating on His passion, is rewarded with a memory 
stored like a picture gallery with representations of what 
He did for love of us ; and occasionally by a look of pre- 
destinating love straight from His very eyes. 

And now "They bring Him into the place called Gol- 
gotha, which, being interpreted, is the place of Calvary." 
So ended the Way of the Cross. And that procession to 
Calvary has never stopped, nor ever will till the final 
reckoning day. On and on they come, chosen by God's 
Spirit to follow their Redeemer, the very favorites of God, 

*The Jewish historian Josephus relates that at the siege of Jerusalem, 
which was one generation after our Lord's death, the Roman general or- 
dered five hundred Jews to be crucified daily, as the unhappy creatures 
were captured wandering outside the walls in search of food. 



206 The Way of the Cross, 

cross-laden men and women out of all nations and of all 
classes, ever journeying to Calvary, which is become iot 
evermore the world's centre; sinless souls, yet inflamed 
with penitential love ; oppressed with the shame of others' 
sins, and determined to atone for them with Christ cruci- 
fied. Penitent souls, glad to suffer and to die with 
Christ for their own offenses. 

He is ever leading us on to Calvary. Take up the 
cross and follow Me, He says ; no man can be My disciple 
unless he be crucified as I am going to be. My disciples 
are all crucified men. And thus the leader of all the elect 
leads them to crucifixion. The model upon whom all 
friends of God pattern their conduct in life and death is 
a crucified Man. 



Chapter IV. 
Jesus Suffers from the Wavering Faith of His Friends. 

Concerning Jesus of Nazareth, who was a prophet, mighty 
in work and word before God and all the people; and how our 
chief priests and princes delivered Him to be condemned to 
death, and crucified Him. But we hoped that it was He that 
should have redeemed Israel. . . . Then He said to them: 
O foolish, and slow of heart to believe in all things which the 
prophets have spoken (Luke xxiv. 19-21, 25). At length He 
appeared to the eleven as they were at table; and He upbraided 
them with their incredulity and hardness of heart (Mark xvi. 14). 

It is during the Way of the Cross that we may most 
appropriately meditate on the sorrow of Jesus for the loss 
of His good repute among His disciples. The glory 
sought after by human ambition, says St. Augustine, is 
ignominious glory. But the esteem of good men is a real 
glory; it ministers a holy joy and is a noble object of am- 
bition. The society of affectionate and confiding friends 
is our foretaste of heaven, and their loyalty in time of 
trouble is almost indispensable to our own loyalty to God. 
For one to find himself doubted and suspected by men 
whom he loves is a hardship second only to misgivings 
about the favor of God Himself. To be misunderstood 
by my friends is often a greater hardship than to be hated 
by my enemies. In fact, my enemies' greatest triumph 
over me is often in cooling the affection and confidence of 
my friends. 

That Jesus was extremely sensitive to this loss of the 



208 The Way of the Cross. 

confidence of His friends, is plain from various passages 
in His life. We remember how, after He had lost many 
disciples on account of His teaching of the real presence 
in holy communion, He turned with much emotion to His 
chosen Twelve and appealed to them : "Will you also go 
away?" (John vi. 68). It was the plea of a heart that 
craved the solace of faithful friendship. During His 
whole passion that heart was wrung with bitter sorrow by 
reason of the weakening of the allegiance of His Apostles 
and disciples. He felt it as much, perhaps, during the 
Way of the Cross as during any other part of His passion. 
He had reproached them the night before with that un- 
faithfulness, the pain of which He felt beforehand. Much 
of His long and touching discourse in the supper-room 
was intended to strengthen their faith in Him: "These 
things have I spoken to you, that you may not be scandal- 
ized" (John xvi. i). And on the way to the Garden of 
Olives, "Jesus saith to them," no doubt with accents of 
great sorrow : "You will all be scandalized in My regard 
this night" (Mark xiv. 2j). And so it had now hap- 
pened. His only companions are the "two other malefac- 
tors," the all unwilling Simon the Cyrenian, and the piti- 
less soldiers and chief priests. His only sympathizers are 
pious women, whose sex saved them from the penalty at- 
tached to the crime of loving Him. 

Jesus knew and deeply regretted that His Apostles 
were irritated against Him because He had not made any 
effort to be released from His enemies. This was their 
first feeling. But the feelings that followed this grieved 
Him yet more : He knew that they harbored doubts about 
His divine mission. He is seized — they must have said- 
dragged before the Jewish council, accused of heresy and 



The Faithlessness of Friends. 209 

blasphemy, and what has been the result ? What did He 
say or do in His defence ? Did He work a single miracle ? 
He seems to have lost that power. It is amazing, it is 
dreadful. He cannot even speak against His accusers — 
they have silenced Him, they have vanquished and mas- 
tered Him. We know that He is innocent of those awful 
crimes. But, poor Jesus, with all His great gifts, He was 
certainly somewhat visionary, and often indiscreet. He 
claimed too much for Himself, and it now looks as if He 
had been really under a delusion, about some things at 
least. And He was too headstrong. Why did He not 
follow our advice and keep out of Judea? (John xi. 8). 
Why could He not see that His prophesy of rising again 
from the grave was absurd? We are willing to believe 
anything possible, but He has asked us to believe in- 
credible things. 

Jesus knew full well that they were thinking thus, and 
were saying such things about Him among themselves. 
This was a great affliction to Him. They would, of 
course, feel that He had been treated most unjustly, but 
also that He had only Himself to blame. He had been 
extremely provoking in His public discourses. Now all 
is lost. We thought He would redeem Israel ; He will be 
put to death by crucifixion this afternoon. 
|j. He knew well that they were faithful to Him. But it 
was now out of pity for a friend in misfortune, not out of 
steadfast allegiance to a Master temporarily obscured, but 
finally to be only the more gloriously triumphant. How 
could one — they asked — who was able to raise Himself 
from the dead, permit His enemies to condemn Him to 
death, to drag Him through the public streets manacled 
and with a rope around His neck, and then load Him with 



210 The Way of the Cross. 

a cross and hurry Him off, vanquished and helpless, and 
crucify Him? 

To the common populace the final sentence of Pilate 
and the Way of the Cross were conclusive against Him. 
To His nearest friends (save His mother) his journey to 
Calvary was cause of gravest doubt about His mission 
and His claim to be the Son of God. None of Jesus' suf- 
ferings exceeded in intensity His consciousness of this. 

This suspension of faith affected not only His 
Apostles, all of them, but also obscured the minds of such 
faithful friends as Magdalen. When, on the morning of 
the Resurrection, she saw the empty tomb, she did not 
think He had risen ; she was concerned only with the dis- 
appearance of His dead body, which she had come to 
anoint ; He would not rise again till the end of the world. 
They all suffered deeply from this conflict of love and of 
faith in their hearts ; how much more deeply did not Jesus 
Himself suffer from the knowledge of their doubts and 
suspicions. 

Let us not judge the friends of Jesus too harshly. He 
Himself would make every excuse for them. Well He 
knew that it is not easy for flesh and blood to understand 
the comparative value of silent suffering and positive re- 
sistance in the work of establishing the honor of God. 
Their reasoning seems weak to us ; but we know all, and 
;we have learned wisdom at their expense. 

Which of us would have decided differently? Jesus 
was condemned by Annas, the lawful high priest; by 
Caiaphas, the intruded one, and by the high council of the 
Sanhedrin; tried and sentenced by Pilate, the Roman 
magistrate; mocked and despised by Herod, the native 
ruler; the whole Jewish people (so it looked) demanded 



The Faithlessness of Friends. 211 

Barabbas instead of Jesus, whom they voted to be cruci- 
fied — Jewish tribunals, Gentile tribunals, public opinion, 
all condemned Him. And before every court He had 
uttered scarcely a word in His own behalf, or did or said 
anything that could be really called a defence. Could 
He really be the Son of God, the only judge of the living 
and the dead ? 

Were it not for the awful eloquence of His dying 
words, and the convulsions of nature at His death, the 
on-lookers at His crucifixion, instead of saying : "Indeed, 
this Man was the Son of God/' might rather have agreed 
that He was the son of perdition. His friends, as He 
was marched a captive to Calvary, overflowed indeed 
with pity for Him ; but they were puzzled, hesitating, in- 
credulous of His great claims ; their faith could not stand 
the test He put it to. 

With such thoughts would Jesus palliate their weak- 
ness, but He felt it none the less deeply. Hardly any 
deprivation left our Redeemer's heart so empty as the 
wavering of His friends. He felt greatly dishonored by 
them. He had been disgraced by the treason of Judas, 
the perjury of Peter, the perfidy of the Jewish judges, 
the cowardice of Pilate, the falling off of the multitude; 
He was dishonored by His death sentence and by the 
manner and the instrument of its execution on hangman's 
hill. Add this last and bitterest pang : He is dishonored 
by the suspicions of His friends. 

Hence afterwards, and even in the glory of His risen 
life, He reproached them for it and upbraided them ; call- 
ing it incredulity and hardness of heart, and, to the disci- 
ples on the road to Emmaus, foolishness and slowness of 
heart. No, no ; I am not a visionary ! I am divinely wise 



212 The Way of the Cross. 

in suffering the loss of all things. Why do you not re- 
member that I am the Redeemer of mankind, and must, 
therefore, suffer for men's sins? For Me to suffer is 
God's highest wisdom. Learn that wisdom now, O ye slow 
of heart ! that a Redeemer must die for the redeemed, and 
only thereby enter into His glory. My most splendid 
miracle is My crucifixion for My friends and My enemies. 
I had rather die and be dead for men's salvation, than re- 
main alive and raise dead men to life for your edification. 
But you did not know Me well enough nor love Me ten- 
derly enough to believe Me against all appearances ; you 
would not believe Me on My word only. 

And as Jesus journeyed on to Calvary, He went over 
His friends in His saddened mind with nervous eagerness, 
and one by one He found them all to be wanting. This 
shadowed His spirit with deeper gloom. It bruised Him 
worse than the fists of His torturers and it shamed Him 
worse than the spittle they voided upon His face; to be 
forced to own this : to My best loved friends, save only 
one, I am not the Son of God. 

Save only one. How much dearer His mother was 
to Him for her solitary fidelity. She never wavered for 
a single instant. She had pondered these things in her 
heart (Luke ii. 19), from the very day that she gave Him 
birth, and especially ever since the prophecy of Simeon 
(Luke ii. 35). But, she alone excepted, all were gone and 
lost to Jesus in the supremely essential trial of faith in His 
divinity. 

This incredulity of the Apostles Jesus turned later on 
greatly to their advantage. The reproaches He made to 
them personally, and the bitterness of their remorse added 
wonderfully to the strength of their faith. It is a curious 



The Faithlessness of Friends. 213 

fact that even the supremely necessary virtue of Christian 
faith is stronger after being sorely tempted than when cul- 
tivated amid every human inducement to believe. Or, bet- 
ter said, the reasons for believing are not so well appre- 
ciated in time of spiritual peace as during the peril of 
mental conflict, and especially after reason and grace have 
won their hard earned victory over temptation to doubt.* 

*And in our own day Jesus would by this part of His sufferings en- 
lighten and strengthen the souls of men, against the infection of doubt and 
the misgivings of over-curious reasoning about His character and His 
mission. He would provide us an antidote against religious indifferentism, 
that is to say, disregard of the dogmatic certainty of faith, and especially 
about His personal attributes and His teaching. Fancy, if you can, Jesus 
saying, on His way to Calvary: It makes little difference what My fol- 
lowers believe about Me personally and about My teaching, as long as 
they love Me. 



Chapter V. 
Jesus is Dishonored in the Eyes of the Jewish People. 

And they led Him away to crucify Him. And bearing His 
own cross He went forth to that place which is called Calvary, 
but in Hebrew Golgotha. And there were also two other male- 
factors led with Him to be put to death (Matt, xxvii. 31; Luke 
xxiii. 32; John xix. 17). 

The loss of His repute as Son of God among His 
disciples and near friends was, as we have seen, a deep 
affliction to Jesus. But He knew their good hearts ; His 
mother was among them, and He would see them all again 
and restore, and more than restore, their allegiance. But 
the loss of His good name among the Jewish people gen- 
erally was a far more serious affliction to Him. 

Here is how it looked to them. For a long time this 
Rabbi, Jesus, and the chief men in the Jewish nation 
were rival suitors for men's esteem. For a time Jesus had 
won the day : "The whole world goeth after Him" 
(John xii. 19). But now at the end, He has been detect- 
ed as a monstrous impostor and seducer, instead of a 
messenger from heaven. Men said : We did the Pharisees 
and scribes injustice; they were right in warning us; we 
ran after a false prophet. 

Thus our Redeemer suffered the agony, not only of 
losing His good name among the masses of men, but of 
acquiring an evil name — and that the worst possible. 
Instead of the Son of God, He is a terrible enemy of God; 



Jesus Dishonored. 215 

He is an awful blasphemer. Instead of doing the heav- 
enly Father's work, His miracles are of the devil him- 
self. He said the devil was our father, and it has been 
proved in open court that He is Himself the servant of 
the evil one, the foremost in the whole world. He prated 
about peace, and He really brought among us nothing 
but trouble, divisions, factions, and the interference of the 
alien tyranny ; is it not all too plain ? Is it not true that 
He has been fairly tried and by the highest judges, and 
justly condemned? And who in the end was this Man's 
best and in fact only friend? The Roman governor, a 
brutal pagan tyrant, an adorer of false gods; and even 
he finally abandoned Him and condemned Him to death. 
He richly deserves it. He has betrayed the confidence of 
a whole nation, and that nation the chosen people of God. 

How could Jesus endure this? His Gospel, the Fa- 
ther's masterwork of love and power, is shown forth as a 
huge imposture, and His true and only Son a hypocrite of 
unheard-of vileness. That celestial way of life, that di- 
vine teaching, so elevated and pure, that religion which is 
a miracle of love, that glorious promise of the new birth 
of mankind, all falsified by the most overwhelming of all 
arguments, the bloody and disgraceful end of the Man 
who is its only exponent and its chosen hero. 

Oh, what a mystery is the cross of Christ ! Oh, how 
marvelous is the power of God's love, which can achieve 
a divine triumph over all the might of men and devils by 
the degradation and crucifixion of His only-begotten Son. 

But not only did Jesus suffer from the general per- 
suasion that He was the greatest enemy of God that ever 
lived, but from an attendant misery — the chief priests 
and their associates were universally praised as God's 



2 1 6 The Way of the Cross. 

foremost friends, fearless and vigilant pastors, wise 
enough to detect and expose the cleverest of impostors, 
true guardians of the people's faith — these betrayers of 
the people, these apostates from the law and the prophets 
of God. It was these good and holy men (everybody 
was saying) who brought this false wretch to justice, in 
spite of His devil's miracles. How much do we not owe 
to them for their zeal for religion, their love of good or- 
der, their persistent prosecution of this arch-traitor to our 
race and faith ? 

And this did Jesus feel as His disgrace was consum- 
mated by the journey to Calvary. His body, all wounded 
and bruised, did but feebly represent the state of his soul 
under the maledictions of the Jews. They scourged Him 
with their tongues, and slew him with their curses. The 
sound of the hammers on the nails, marking the pain of 
pierced flesh and torn nerves, would not be so painful as 
the sounds He now heard, and had heard all that fore- 
noon, all the previous night, from His fellow-countrymen, 
uttering in His own language, and in most ferocious 
tones, every evil wish of hearts that hated Him far be- 
yond their power of expression, and at the same time pro- 
claiming the praises of men most deserving of reproba- 
tion. 

Who that calls himself a follower of Christ will after 
this strive for public fame, except to refer it all to the 
glory of Him who chose for our sakes to be thus "dis- 
honored ? In my moments of fervor I offer God my life 
and my death. And my reputation ? Have I the courage 
to offer that for God's honor ? Could I be content to be 
disgraced, rated all unjustly as an impostor and a 
heretic, and then slip silently away and die in obscurity, 



Jesus Dishonored. 217 

the cloud never lifted? Jesus, my patron in all things, 
suffered worse than that. For being in the f c :m of God, 
and it being no robbery for Him to claim equality with 
God (Phil. ii. 6), He yet positively offered Himself as 
the victim of our sins, willing to be accused of our blas- 
phemies and heresies, willing to atone for our sensuali- 
ties and envies, and for our every other shameful offence. 
This He did for us all, including His immediate enemies, 
the most malicious, ungrateful and cruel beings who ever 
lived. 



PART V. 

The Crucifixion. 

Chapter I. 
On Calvary. 

And they bring Him into the place called Golgotha, which, 
being interpreted, is the place of Calvary. And they gave Him 
to drink wine mingled with myrrh. And when He had tasted, 
He would not drink. And it was the third hour* (Matt, xxvii. 
33, 34; Mark xv. 22, 23, 25; Luke xxiii. 33; John xix. 17). 

The Way of the Cross is done. Calvary is reached, 
and Jesus lays down His heavy burden. With a deep 
sigh of relief He drops it from His weary shoulders. 
Simon of Cyrene is dismissed with grateful looks, and 
with words of heartfelt thanks. 

There lies the cross of Jesus upon the ground; He 
looks upon it and He reveres it. He thinks how soon He 
will be fastened to it and die upon it. It means every- 
thing to Him, and to us. It is to both the Redeemer and 
the redeemed the emblem of most perfect love. "Greater 
love than this" (He remembers well this teaching to His 
disciples) "hath no man, than that a man should give 
his life for his friends" (John xv. 13). And what man 
has ever done for His friends a thousandth part of what 
Jesus has done for His enemies? 

*When St. Mark says that the time of the crucifixion was "the third 
hour," he means that the interval called by the Jews the third hour, namely, 
that between nine o'clock and noon, was not yet completed, or that it was 
as yet the third hour. 



On Calvary. 219 

The cross means both His deepest desolation of soul, 
and His most intolerable pain of body — His expiring 
agony. And it means His entire triumph over all that 
is false and evil. The cross shall be His favorite 
memorial among His followers, and shall at last be the 
sign in the heavens to announce His second coming 
(Matt. xxiv. 30). Its power over men shall be sacra- 
mental, instilling into their souls, as they gaze upon it 
or kiss it, the grace of devoted friendship for their 
Redeemer and for their fellow-men. 

Jesus looks, oh, with what intensity of interest, at 
the nails and the hammers, and at the men digging the 
hole for His gibbet. He lifts His eyes towards the 
skies, shut and barred against His longing soul. He 
looks about Him into the faces of the leading conspirators, 
some scowling with hate, some grinning with triumphant 
malice. He casts a kindly glance at the Roman soldiers, 
and His eyes rest upon the officer in charge of His 
execution, who returns the glance with a curious gaze, 
and perhaps asks a pitiful question or two. This is the 
pagan centurion, who is to be made a Christian three 
hours later by the very death which he is now bringing 
about. 

The sun was just at the turn of his daily course as 
Jesus arrived at Calvary, and at sunset the greatest 
festival of the Jewish religion would begin. Whilst He 
sadly prepares for the final throes of His atonement, 
the people of Israel are expecting all the heavenly joy 
of this great Passover. We have followed Him "outside 
the gate" (Heb. xiii. 12), literally an outcast and ex- 
communicate from the Holy City and from the elect race 
of the Hebrews. Let us now with all sympathy meditate 



220 The Crucifixion. 

upon His wonderful death. We are on Calvary, the 
holiest spot in the world. May all its significance of 
hope and love be for our soul's instruction and purifica- 
tion. 

"And they gave Him to drink wine mingled with 
myrrh. And when He had tasted He would not drink/' 
It seems to have been a custom at Jerusalem thus to 
solace and strengthen culprits just before execution. 
The humane persons who thus ministered to dying 
criminals did not make an exception against Jesus; let 
it be recorded in their favor. And Jesus recognized 
their kindness. He tasted the wine, and that with lips 
already burning with the thirst which would yet wrench 
from His soul a loud cry of pain. He tasted, but He 
would not drink. Then why taste? I wish we knew 
all the reasons. I wish we could understand the depth 
of His purpose in every single act given us in this most 
absorbing history; but many of the woes of the passion 
are as yet hidden from us. Who will begin a devotion 
to "the unknown sorrows of Jesus"? — to quote an ex- 
pression of the old English Catholic poet, Richard 
Crashaw. The deeper depths of His sufferings will 
remain unknown, till we taste them turned into joy in 
His heavenly Kingdom. 

But Jesus, if He refused to drink, yet tasted the 
offered cup. This was to show, perhaps, His thanks for 
it, in accordance with His gentle nature, always grateful 
for favors. And He returned the wine without drink- 
ing, as a thrifty trader carefully saves all his means for 
his greater ventures ; so does this purchaser of our 
eternal freedom save His thirst and increase its store 
of pain against the final payment of our ransom at His 



On Calvary. 221 

death, accumulating three more hours of fiery thirst. 
So, with thanks, he tasted of the soothing drink, and 
no more ; just as later on He refused the vinegar in the 
very article of death. This was not done with the mere 
stoic's boastful defiance of bodily pain. Just the re- 
verse; for He loved pain, and He was thirsting to thirst 
for us, that we, at the last, might all drink deep of the 
delights of God's house (Ps. xxxv. 9). And perhaps 
He said, as He returned the cup, give this wine to the 
"other malefactors," My companions in misfortune, and 
let it serve to increase their own share. 

Furthermore, our Redeemer refused the wine be- 
cause it might dull His sense of pain, inner and outer. 
He had been in full use of His faculties all through His 
passion, as His answers to the chief priest, to Pilate, 
and to the women of Jerusalem plainly showed; not 
even the dreadful scourging had benumbed His senses. 
No solace of wine for Me, He would say to Himself; 
must I not drink the dregs of another cup? Must not 
I preach my sermon from that pulpit soon to be erected ? 
I must hold My mind all open and free to My dying 
breath, that at last I may say of My task in all truth: 
It is finished. 



Chapter II. 
Jesus is Stripped. 

The soldiers, therefore, when they had crucified Him, took 
His garments (and they made four parts, to every soldier a 
part), and also His coat. Now the coat was without seam, 
woven from the top throughout. They said then one to an- 
other: Let us not cut it, but let us cast lots for it, whose it 
shall be; that it might be fulfilled which was spoken of by the 
prophet, saying: They divided My garments among them; and 
upon My vesture they cast lots. And the soldiers, indeed, did 
these things (Matt, xxvii. 35; Mark xv. 24; Luke xxiii. 34; 
John xix. 23, 24). 

We can suppose no delay in the soldiers' work at 
Calvary. As soon as the cross was placed on the ground 
in a position convenient for being raised, and the hole 
for it had been dug, Jesus was stripped of His clothes. 
First they took off His "coat," which means the outer 
garment covering His whole form like a gown, reaching 
nearly to His feet. And then they quickly, and doubtless 
with little ceremony of kindness, took off His simple 
under garments, and He stood before them entirely 
naked. Many think with probability that a cloth was 
then wrapped about our Redeemer's loins, such being 
the Roman custom at crucifixions ; and it is commonly 
believed that He wore His crown of thorns till His death. 
He had already been twice stripped that day, and each 
time reclothed. This time He is stripped finally and 
forever. And much more painfully than before, because 
now, from His bruised condition, every movement of 



Jesus is Stripped. 223 

His body was very painful. And His wounds were 
sore, and in some places adhered to His under garments ; 
many of His stripes must have begun to bleed afresh. 

It is no pious fiction that when Jesus was stripped 
of His garments they stuck to the wounds inflicted by 
the scourges, and tore the flesh when again taken off. It 
must have been so. Bind up a fresh wound without oint- 
ment or lint, and in half an hour the bandage is pasted 
tight, and can only be withdrawn with great pain and re- 
newed loss of blood. 

Thus were His holy body and limbs laid bare before 
that hateful, vulgar crowd, a sad sight of wounds and 
bruises. Jesus was naked before them; but yet clothed 
with a mantle of ineffable purity, decked with the royal 
purple of His blood. How adorable He was to the 
angels. The invisible Seraphim gather around Him, 
awestruck with His beauty and His dignity, the cuts 
and swellings only adding new glory to His form and 
new fervor to their adoration, for His wounds witness 
to the yet greater beauty of the generous soul within. 

Wonderfully did the body of this naked Man breathe 
out the Infinite purity of God the Father and the Im- 
maculate purity of the virgin mother. Chastity is now 
to be a virtue triumphantly established over the animal 
lusts of men by His stripping and His death. And let 
it be noted that if avarice had gained a foothold among 
Jesus' disciples, He had completely barred out lust from 
them. 

As He is stripped Jesus gives away, and gladly (for 
He is the willing victim of His spoilers), His last earthly 
possessions — except His earthly life and body; He parts 
with His raiment. He was a workingman, and all His 



224 The Crucifixion. 

clothes were homespun, and were made in the quiet 
cottage at Nazareth, both spun and woven by his own 
mother; they were of no great worth, but He valued 
them for her sake. And He is unclothed of the work 
of her hands, to be immediately clothed with our shame 
and wickedness, namely, His cross. 

Thus was Jesus reduced to the last condition of 
poverty, a virtue He had loved with the plainest prefer- 
ence. And in willing to be crucified Jesus purposely 
chose a death in which not even His clothes would be 
left Him. His clothes were not soft or luxurious, but 
they were all He owned, and now they are gone. Noth- 
ing of earth is left Him. His poverty will be complete 
when His body at last is wrenched away from His soul 
by death. 

The poor Man of Nazareth is now the poor Man 
of Calvary. Dwelling He had none since His baptism 
by John, nor money. Honor and friends are gone. His 
last meal was the Last Supper, given Him by a charitable 
friend in the city. The gift of wine mingled with myrrh 
was to be His last taste of food of any kind — "and when 
He had tasted He would not drink" — except the vinegar 
they were to offer Him nearer to His end. 

The virtue of Christian poverty, all new in this world 
of selfish greed, was thus well taught by Jesus at His 
stripping. His religion is one of total detachment from 
the goods of this world, at least in our interior life. 
And He counsels external and actual separation from 
them, both their ownership and use, as far as Providence 
will permit. How necessary this virtue is to us in our 
struggle against our mortal foes, Jesus knew full well. 
"When we come to the battle of faith," says St. Gregory 



Jesus is Stripped. 225 

the Great, as quoted by the Church in the Breviary, "we 
undertake to wrestle with the malign spirits, and these 
possess nothing of this world's goods. We should be 
stripped naked if we hope to overcome these naked ad- 
versaries. For if one who is clothed wrestles with one 
who is naked, he is all the more quickly thrown to the 
ground because he may the more easily be seized hold 
of. And what, in fact, are all earthly possessions, ex- 
cept a kind of bodily clothing? Whoever, therefore, 
steps forth to wrestle with the devil, should first cast off 
these garments lest he be vanquished/' 

What the world chiefly prides itself on is practical 
good sense, as in contrast with the visionary principles 
of devout Christians, especially those of humility and 
poverty. Against the world Christ showed an unvary- 
ing and uncompromising antagonism. Its riches He 
spurned, its maxims of self-interest He anathematized, 
its pleasures He condemned. He was especially anxious 
to emphasize all this at the end of His life by the poverty 
of His last hours. He gave up all that He had in the 
world by His stripping, which Providence made a very 
public ceremony on Mount Calvary. He left everything 
behind Him with His poor clothes at the foot of the 
cross. To worldlings this is mere stripping and nothing 
else, to praise it seems to them utter folly: "To those 
that are saved, that is to us, it is the power of God and 
the wisdom of God" (I. Cor. i. 24). 

Having stripped Jesus of His clothes, the soldiers 
laid them apart till they had finished their work, nailed 
Him to the cross, and lifted it up. Thus it was from the 
cross, after "they had crucified Him," that He saw them 
dividing their spoil among them, and throwing dice for 



226 The Crucifixion. 

the ownership of the "coat," the largest and best piece. 
These four soldiers were the ones Jesus knew best, and 
loved best, being the four who were the actual execu- 
tioners ; the others were the main body of the centurion's 
detachment, and therefore about a hundred in number, 
whose duty it was to escort the "malefactors" to their 
execution and guard the place till all was done. It 
seems that the four men who personally did the dreadful 
work received the victim's clothes as their perquisite. 

So they threw dice for His outer garment, His 
Rabbi's gown. It was the same holy vesture of which 
the afflicted woman had truly said : "If I shall but touch 
His garment, I shall be made whole" (Mark v. 28). This 
seamless coat was doubtless His mother's masterpiece. 
And as Jesus saw them handling it, and heard them 
arguing about it, and then saw them throwing dice for 
it, tender memories of Nazareth and of Mary and of the 
sacred past mingled with His awful pains. But He was 
glad that He had something left to give away, especially 
as it was worth disputing about; and above all because 
it was to go to those who were the closest of all mankind 
to His death, His great act of atoning love. 

The soldier who was fortunate enough to win the cast 
of the dice, may have thought that he had only a gam- 
bler's title to that garment, which, no doubt, he hoped to 
sell at a high price to Jesus' disciples as a relic of their 
Master. Little did he appreciate that its owner, as He 
saw him win it, gladly gave it to him, gladly would give 
him His heart's blood. While the soldiers divided His 
last earthly possessions, Jesus prayed His Father to give 
them all the riches of Paradise. 

Perhaps the soldier, after he had won his prize, and in 



Jesus is Stripped. 227 

the joy of his success, tried the garment on. Jesus, as 
He saw him do it, would long to clothe the poor creature 
with His very soul and body. "Put ye on the Lord Jesus 
Christ" (Rom. xiii. 14), is an expression of the Apostle. 
I clothe thee and all My executioners with Myself, Jesus 
would murmur. I am all thine without casting lots. May 
thy mind be clothed with light uncreated, thy heart ar- 
rayed in infinite love — I am thy light, I am thy joy, if 
thou wilt but have Me so. I will give thee not only My 
raiment, but My body and My blood, My soul and My 
divinity. 

"O Jesus," exclaims Ludolph the Saxon, "who before 
Thy crucifixion didst vouchsafe to be stripped of Thy 
clothes and exposed naked in the sight of all, grant that 
I may be stripped of all worldly things, in so far as they 
are contrary to my salvation, so that I may naked follow 
Thee crucified naked on the bare cross." 



Chapter III. 
"Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews." 

And Pilate wrote a title also, the inscription of His cause, 
and he put it on the cross over His head. And the writing 
was: Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews. This title, there- 
fore, many of the Jews did read; because the place where Jesus 
was crucified was nigh to the city; and it was written in He- 
brew, in Greek, and in Latin. Then the chief priests of the 
Jews said to Pilate: Write not, the King of the Jews; but that 
He said, I am the King of the Jews. Pilate answered: What 
I have written, I have written (Matt, xxvii. 37; Mark xv. 26; 
Luke xxiii. 38; John xix. 19-22). 

It is probable that the inscription or title, "J esus °^ 
Nazareth, King of the Jews," was written by Pilate after 
he had passed sentence, and while the cross was being 
prepared. Jesus carried it about His neck on the Way 
of the Cross, as some surmise, or, according to others, it 
w r as borne by one of the soldiers. And it was while Jesus 
was being stripped that it was affixed to the cross, being 
placed above the point where the upright and the cross- 
beam came together. Our Redeemer was glad of this 
inscription. My name and My office, He would say, are 
now nailed where I shall soon be nailed ; the King's own 
self and the King's royal title shall be seen together in 
death. 

Both of the thieves had their titles also nailed to their 
crosses, stating each one's crime and giving his miserable 
name, so that our Lord's inscription was one of three 



"Jesus of Nazareth , King of the Jews" 229 

criminal appellations fixed to three gibbets. He was not 
ashamed of this association of His name and title with 
those of common outlaws, though it all would read to a 
stranger thus: one malefactor's crime is robbery, and 
another's is the same; but the crime of this middle one 
is the strange offense that He is the King of the Jews. 

Yes ; the crime of Jesus is that He is the King of the 
Jews. If he had repudiated that title He would not now 
be crucified. As He had always done before, so now He 
willingly avows, publicly proclaims, I am the King of the 
Jews, lawful monarch of the people whose rulers have 
crucified Me and whose multitudes have rejected Me; 
that is what I am and what I shall remain forever. There 
is a promise of future mercy for Israel in this persistent 
purpose of Christ to be and forever to remain their King, 
"For the gifts and the calling of God are without re- 
pentance" (Rom. xi. 29). 1 

Pilate wrote the title in the three great languages of 
the human race, and he did this singular act under divine 
compulsion, for only the Syro-Chaldaic, which was the 
Jews' dialect of the Hebrew tongue, was necessary for 
publishing any event in Jerusalem. The Roman governor 
thus unwittingly made Jesus King of the Gentiles as well 
as of the Jews. And, indeed, it was only because He was 
King of the Jews that He was King of all men, for the 
Hebrew race was not chosen by God for its own glory, 
but for that of all nations, and its glory is its King, Jesus 
of Nazareth. 

The three languages had yet another significance. 
For Latin was the speech of the great power among men, 
and Greek was the tongue of the learned, but Hebrew 
was that of heavenly promise. Therefore, wisdom and 



230 The Crucifixion. 

power and hope are all in that triple-tongued heraldry of 
the cross, but each wonderfully transformed. As to 
power: "The word of the cross, to them indeed that 
perish, is foolishness ; but to them that are saved, that is 
to us, it is the power of God" (I. Cor. i. 18). As to 
wisdom: "Hath not God made foolish the wisdom of 
this world? . . . The Greeks seek after wisdom, but 
we preach Christ crucified, to the Jews indeed a stumbling 
block, and unto the Gentiles foolishness" (Ibid. i. 20, 23). 
As to the hope of Israel, Jesus was its perfect fulfilment ; 
yet because of pride they nailed Him to a cross, which 
became the Jews' stumbling block. 

The wisdom of dying for the salvation of friend and 
foe is in the name Jesus, which means a Savior. The 
most invincible force ever known is that of Christ's love 
of God and man, which shall yet overturn the mighty 
empire of Rome by the martyrs' faith in Jesus crucified. 
And the promise given of old to the Hebrew fathers, is 
now made good in the death of Jesus of Nazareth, King 
of the Jews. Therefore, by these universal and eternal 
languages, every tongue shall confess that Jesus is the 
King of Kings, and is in the glory of God the Father 
(Phil. ii. 11) ; that the King of the Jews suffered to save 
the people of every race, and that from His cross on 
Calvary He shall rule over all mankind. 

By race and religion Jesus is Hebrew, by perfection 
of wisdom He is Greek, by conquest of the world He is 
Roman. And, as He sees His title fixed fast and firm to 
His royal throne of suffering, He feels how firmly He is 
binding all these races and all other men together into 
the one holy brotherhood of His Church by His cruci- 
fixion. 



u Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews. 9 ' 231 

This three-fold proclamation means that "There is 
now no distinction of the Jew and the Greek, for the same 
is Lord of all, rich unto all that call on Him" (Rom. x. 
12). Salvation is to be made universal, and every cry to 
God, in whatever tongue it is uttered, will receive a rich 
and an eternal gift in response, and this is the whole 
meaning of Calvary. 

Very differently felt the Jewish rulers. To them no 
race was equal to theirs in God's eyes. And especially 
Jesus was to them a mock king. The very word king, 
used in any connection with Jesus, made them uneasy, 
even though written above a head crowned with thorns 
and a form enthroned on a gibbet. They, therefore, hur- 
ried to Pilate, as soon as they discovered what the in- 
scription was, and demanded a different title, one that 
would read that Jesus had claimed that He was King. 
They felt that the whole scene would show plainly enough 
what had become of His claim. But Pilate stood to his 
inscription, or rather God held him to it : "What I have 
written, I have written," he said, and dismissed them. 

They were willing to have him write, Tiberius Caesar, 
King of the Jews. They had themselves written it eter- 
nally on the very skies by their proclamation to earth and 
heaven an hour before — "We have no king but Caesar" — 
a heathen king and a tyrant, an emperor full of war and 
rapine and murder, rather than Jesus, Son of David, Son 
of God, and Prince of Peace. Caesar's first act as their 
new king was to yield to their clamor and crucify Jesus, 
their rightful King ; and his second act is to force them 
to read his proclamation nailed to a dreadful sign board, 
written in three languages, that Jesus of Nazareth is King 
of the Jews — their King, now and forever more. If you 



232 The Crucifixion. 

say that this was a dispute all about words, yet they were 
words of miraculous power, and this the Jews felt in spite 
of themselves, as Pilate did not ; he meant only to insult 
them. 

The Jews rejected Jesus by spoken words, and He, 
however rudely they thrust Him from them, yet clings 
to them ; and though deposed from His throne of honor, 
mounts His throne of shame, and tells all nations in their 
three principal tongues and in letters never to be effaced, 
being nailed to His symbol of eternal love, that He is still 
and forever a King; that of His many titles of honor, 
the one that He most prefers, whether among Jews or 
Greeks, Romans or barbarians, is Jesus of Nazareth, 
King of the Jews. , 

Notice that during His trial, Pilate called our Re- 
deemer by His own name, Jesus. Not so the chief priests 
and their followers; not once or in any part of the pro- 
ceedings did they use the name Jesus. They called Him : 
"This Man," "That seducer," and, only in scornful irony, 
"King of the Jews." They were afraid of His name. 
They had rather strike His face than call His name. 
There is a divine spell in the name of Jesus, which even 
they dared not challenge by pronouncing it ; no, not even 
when they asked Pilate to change the title. And if it 
must be named and written, they would couple it with 
fraud and usurpation, and they would have Pilate, their 
unwilling tool, their reluctant helper in the murder of 
Jesus, aid them in blackening His name by a final act of 
cowardice. Pilate refused, and, we are certain, greatly 
to their discomfiture. 

Pilate positively refused to alter, add to, or taEe front 
the title he had given Jesus. "What I have written, I 



"Jesus of Nazareth^ King of the Jews" 23 J 

have written/' he said. He wrote better than he knew. 
He wrote as he did, indeed, to annoy the Jews, whom he 
dared not otherwise resist; but by his hand God wrote 
in the holiest place on earth the most worshipful name 
under heaven, that one only name by the power of which 
men can be saved (Acts iv. 12). The Jewish rulers had 
been more than willing that Pilate should hang Jesus. 
They must perforce — so he insisted — allow him now to 
name His offense — it is that He is their King. "Pilate," 
says St. Augustine, "wrote what he wrote, because Christ 
had said what He had said": I am Jesus, a Savior; I 
am come to save that which was lost ; "thou sayest I am 
King of the Jews — I am." And now His claim of King- 
ship is made perfect by dying for His rebellious subjects, 
and in the very act of dying saying that He is their King. 

The name of Jesus had come to Him with the shed- 
ding of blood. It was given Him by Mary and Joseph 
at the command of His heavenly Father, for as they cut 
the infant Redeemer with the knife of circumcision, "His 
name was called Jesus, which was called by the angel, 
before He was conceived in the womb" (Luke ii. 21). 
And now at the end of His life His name is written in 
blood, and amid bitter contention, and is nailed to a gal- 
lows tree. But it is our dearest hope, indeed it is our 
own name; for Jesus gives us that name to pay our 
eternal debt with. 

When a man writes his name on his friend's promise 
to pay money, it is often the seal of his own financial ruin, 
because he thereby goes surety for another man's debt. 
Jesus became my surety with my creditor, who is my 
offended God. He wrote upon my body of sin and upon 
my soul of iniquity, I assume this man's debt, here is My 



234 The Crucifixion. 

signature, and I seal it with this cross in My blood: 
"Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews." 

In cases between friend and friend, where the debt is 
unpaid by the debtor and then paid by his surety, it is 
often a sign that both are ruined men. But in the case of 
Jesus going on my bond, I am saved and He is ruined ; 
He is bankrupt of goods and friends for me, home and 
country, even His very life is forfeit for my sake. But 
the third day is the day of grace, when both He and I are 
gloriously to be enriched: "For you know the grace of 
our Lord Jesus Christ, that being rich He became poor, 
for your sakes ; that through His poverty you might be 
rich" (II. Cor. viii. 9) ; "Blotting out the handwriting 
of the decree that was against us, which was contrary to 
us. And He hath taken the same out of the way, fasten- 
ing it to the cross" (Coll. ii. 14). With His name my 
name is affixed to the cross, and my sins, written beneath 
it, are blotted out by His blood. 

Thus the adorable name of Jesus is offered to God 
with our names when our debt is demanded for payment 
in the divine court, and thereby payment is made for us. 
It is in this way that every man is named for Jesus, as a 
subject for his King, as a debtor for his surety, as a 
brother for the first-born in the family. "Praise ye His 
name, for the Lord is sweet, His mercy endureth forever, 
and His truth to generation and generation" (Ps. xcix. 

5). 



Chapter IV. 
Jesus and the Two Thieves. 

And there were also two other malefactors led with Him 
to be put to death. And with Him they crucified the robbers, 
one on the right hand, and the other on the left, and Jesus in 
the midst. And the scripture was fulfilled which saith : And 
with the wicked He was reputed (Matt, xxvii. 38; Mark xv. 
27, 28; Luke xxiii. 32, 33; John xix. 18). 

It is a piece of good luck (so must have thought the 
conspirators) that two thieves have been condemned to 
die this same day ; our enemy will have the right sort of 
company at Golgotha. Men will say: Here is just an 
ordinary execution of common outlaws — this Jesus is no 
high-class offender, but a malefactor dying among "other 
malefactors." Only this difference : we have nicknamed 
Him the King of the Jews. 

Is it not strange that Jesus quite agreed with them? 
He thanks His Father's providence for all its loving dis- 
posal of events, but He does so with especial fervor for 
this one. For as among the different classes of men there 
is one known as the criminal class, so to this class did 
Jesus will to belong in His last hours. To be reputed in 
the sight of heaven and earth a sinner among sinners, is 
the essence of His atoning purpose. He is glad that the 
trial and execution of the "two other malefactors" was 
overruled from above and so timed that He might have 
at His death the kind of company He loved best in life. 
He felt most at home thus (if we may so say). If there 



236 The Crucifixion. 

was any solace to His misery on the way to Calvary, and 
during His crucifixion, it was in the company He had 
close about Him — "two other malefactors," "one on the 
right hand and the other on the left, and Jesus in the 
midst/' that He might die to save them; many scoffing 
enemies passing back and forth, that He might pray for 
them and save them ; His immaculate mother, that He 
might bestow her as His parting gift upon all sinners to 
be their dearest friend to intercede for them and help to 
save them. , 

Is He not the sinner's man ? Has He not set Himself 
apart to die for sinners ? Then give Him leave to die be- 
tween "two other malefactors/' God's love for us took 
the form of identifying His Divine Son with us sinners 
in life and in death : shall He consort with us in life, but 
not in death ? Who would not wish to die surrounded by 
those He loved best? 

And we can but faintly imagine how deeply He loved 
His fellow-culprits, with what tenderness of sympathy 
He forgot His own pains as He saw them nailed to their 
crosses; how shocked He was at their curses and their 
defiance of the executioners. And how eagerly He de- 
bated in His mind His plans to move them to repentance. 

O Jesus! What love is Thine for us "other male- 
factors." Oh, how little does he know of love who has 
not learned Thy love for sinners by studying the lessons 
of Calvary. How little has he loved who has not shared 
1 Thy love for sinners. 

We direct the devout reader's attention, therefore, to 
the curious expression of the Evangelist about the two 
thieves, who were our Redeemer's fellow-crossbearers on 
His journey to Calvary, and were crucified on either side 



Jesus and the Tivo Thieves. 237 

of Him, for they are spoken of as "two other malefac- 
tors." A carefully chosen expression, describing how the 
condemned men looked as grouped together journeying 
to Calvary, being, all three of them, men of the same class 
and kind: "And there were also two other malefactors 
led with Him to be put to death." It had been a constant 
reproach to Jesus that "This Man receiveth sinners" 
(Luke xv. 2) ; and the Pharisees demanded of His disci- 
ples : "Why doth your Master eat and drink with pub- 
licans and sinners?" (Mark ii. 16). What amazement 
to find that He is glad even to die with them. 

When the Pharisees called Jesus the friend of sinners, 
little did they imagine how absolutely true was the title. 
Pilate's superscription, "Jesus of Nazareth, King of the 
Jews," was not more true than the loud-speaking fact of 
Jesus' position, being the middle place between the two 
thieves: King of the Jews and friend and associate of 
sinners. Of the two titles He would surrender the latter 
no more willingly than the former. One thief He saves, 
and He would hang a whole age on His gibbet to save the 
other. He was the best friend Barabbas, the robber, ever 
had or could have. At Simon's banquet He had rather 
be the friend of the woman that was a sinner than be re- 
puted a prophet (Luke vii. 39). Let every one of us 
duly appreciate this. He is my friend, my only friend, 
my friend unto death ; and it is for me, a sinner, that He 
came into the world, lived, taught, organized His Church, 
and died. "A faithful saying, and worthy of all accepta- 
tion, that Christ Jesus came into this world to save sin- 
ners, of whom I am the chief" (I. Tim. i. 15). 

The reproach of being fond of sinners He considered 
praise, and He did all he could to deserve it. He ban- 



238 The Crucifixion. 

quetted with them, lodged with them, heartily thanked a 
woman "who is a sinner" for anointing Him for His 
burial. No wonder, then, that He now chooses to die as 
a sinner, and between "two other malefactors/' His ruling 
passion strong in death — a kind of death allotted only to 
the vilest sinners. In view of all this, had not we better 
reconsider our own contempt for the wicked, we who are 
students of the lessons of Calvary? 

And He was given the place among the criminals that 
he preferred, the most prominent place, the place of honor. 
Jesus knew very well that men would ask, which of these 
is Jesus of Nazareth ? and that the answer would be : The 
middle one, as being the worst criminal of the three. This 
malefactor, Jesus of Nazareth, evidently outranks the 
other two in wickedness. 

Each one of us and all mankind have a superabundant 
share in the cross of Christ. But it is certain that the class 
known as "sinners," that is to say, the notoriously bad, the 
hardened, obstinate, relapsed, brutish, boastful, arrogant, 
scoffing sinners, the ones about whom their friends de- 
spair, who are not only wicked but are the shameless rail- 
ers at virtue and religion in others — it is certain that these 
are the ones for whom Jesus has a partiality, and these 
have a greater share in His cross than ordinary sinners. 
Hence, too, His title over His head, King of the Jews. 
For the Jews were the leading sinners against His Father 
in the whole world, and His own foremost enemies. 

At the last day Jesus will give the just their eternal 
kingdom because they visited Him in prison: "Then 
shall the King say to them that shall be on His right hand : 
Come ye blessed of My Father, possess the kingdom pre- 
pared for you from the foundation of the world. For 



Jesus and the Two Thieves. 239 

. . . I was in prison, and you came to Me" (Matt. xxv. 
34, 36). For He, belonging by both the appointment of 
His Father and His own choice to the criminal class, says 
to us : Pity them and you pity Me. If, therefore, a man 
is conscious of high endowments of nature or special gifts 
of grace, God would have him on that very account culti- 
vate a tender pity for sinners. And among both the in- 
nocent and the penitent friends of Jesus, the choicest 
spirits devote themselves wholly to saving their wicked 
brethren, as being their Master's favorites, sinners the 
most totally abandoned, despised and outlawed. 

Another lesson is that the best means of saving hard- 
ened sinners is preaching Christ crucified to them. It is 
indeed true that the terrors of the divine wrath should 
generally (though not always) introduce the appeal of 
the cross. But the love of Jesus crucified for sinners is 
the most powerful motive ever known to move men to 
repentance, as it is the most essentially necessary for ob- 
taining pardon; and it remains the only reliable one if 
perseverance is to be secured. 



Chapter V. 
Jesus Is Nailed to the Cross. 

And they crucified Him (Matt, xxvii. 35; Mark xv. 24; Luke 
xxii. 33; John xix. 18). 

But [Thomas] said to them: Except I shall see in His hands 
the print of the nails, and put my finger into the place of the 
nails, and put my hand into His side, I will not believe. And 
after eight days, again His disciples were within, and Thomas 
with them. Jesus cometh, the doors being shut, and stood in 
the midst, and said : Peace be to you. Then He said to Thomas : 
Put in thy finger hither, and see My hands; and bring hither 
thy hand, and put it into My side, and be not faithless but be- 
lieving. Thomas answered and said to Him: My Lord and 
my God (John xx. 25-28). 

It is most commonly believed that our Redeemer was 
fastened to His cross before it was raised up. And it is 
a revealed truth that He was nailed to His cross and not 
merely tied to it, for, after His resurrection, both He and 
His Apostle, Thomas, speak of the marks of the nails. 
But it is quite possible that He was also fastened with 
ropes, which would prevent the weight of His body from 
tearing His hands loose from the nails. As to the feet 
of Jesus, many think it probable that each was separately 
nailed to the cross. 

On arriving at Calvary the place was quickly cleared 
of the surging crowds, the cross was lifted from our Re- 
deemer's shoulders and placed upon the ground ; no more 
than a moment was spent in offering Him and the two 
thieves their cup of wine, and then each one was imme- 



Jesus is Nailed to the Cross. 241 

diately stripped and laid upon his gibbet. Jesus lay there 
flat upon His back, His arms drawn out along the beam 
of the cross. He saw them getting ready the nails and 
adjusting them to His hands, in order to fix Him to His 
tree of shame. As they stretched His arms and hands, 
their scowling faces were brought down close to His own, 
sadly enough disfigured, but yet always kind. He did 
not turn away His eyes from their hard, brutish features 
as they did their dreadful work. We would fain believe 
that as they wounded His hands with hammer and nails 
he wounded their hearts with His affectionate glances, all 
full of pity and expressive of entire forgiveness. The 
wounds of love are more fatal to hate than those of hate 
to love. Perhaps He even spoke some words of pardon 
to them, as He certainly pleaded for them with His Father 
in His silent prayers. 

And thus they nail Him. They press a heavy nail, or 
rather it must have been a long spike, hard against the 
palm of one of His hands, which is held fast by a soldier, 
while another one strikes with all his force. Down falls 
the hammer ; again and again it quickly strikes, and the 
blunt point is forced amid the spurting blood through the 
centre of the hand and into the wood, driven by repeated 
strokes deeper and deeper, till it is driven home, and its 
broad flat head rests closely upon the palm of our Re- 
deemer's hand. It is no easy matter to drive a great nail 
through such a substance as a human, living hand. But 
the soldiers are doubtless well practised in the art of cru- 
cifixion. One hand is soon nailed, then the other, and then 
each foot. As the nails passed through the beam on the 
other side it is probable that the points were bent back 
and clinched. It is possible that in nailing our Redeem- 



er- 



242 The Crucifixion. 

er's feet they pierced them first with a dagger, in order 
to make easy way for the nails. At any rate, He was at 
last nailed, hands and feet, to His cross. " 

We can only leave the devout reader to His own sym- 
pathies to realize how Jesus suffered by the nailing. From 
the unpitying faces of the executioners, He, in His tor- 
ture, raised His glances upward in entire resignation to 
the Divine Will. His soul pierced the gloom spread over 
Him by that infinite justice, of which He was the victim, 
and He regarded His Father with the eye of steadfast 
faith ; He knew His Father's love and He adored it, most 
confidingly, most humbly, but, oh ! most sadly. 

We must suppose that during the nailing Jesus was 
gripped tight by the four executioners in order to hold 
Him quiet during the excruciating pain. But this pre- 
caution was not necessary. He doubtless shrunk and 
quivered at each blow, but He submitted absolutely ; He 
had rather a thousand times be nailed than be set free. 
He made not the least effort to release Himself, nor ut- 
tered a single word of complaint. No sound from His 
lips, probably none from any source, broke the awful still- 
ness, except the strokes of the hammer. And now He lies 
fastened upon His hard bed, His deathbed. And His 
head rests upon His painful pillow, His crown of thorns. 

Nail His hands. He has toiled with them from child- 
hood ; they were strong and hard and sinewy, the hands 
of a true workingman, who had laboriously earned for 
His mother a modest living. He now gladly fills them 
with nails and with pain and with flowing blood, and He 
pays with these His earnings, our ransom to His Father, 
Nail His feet. They were never weary in the quest of 
souls, always swift in bearing heaven's message of peace, 



Jesus is Nailed to the Cross, 243 

restless and eager in pursuit of fugitives from His 
Father's love. They have now found the only rest they 
ever craved — nailed to the cross, the token of God's su- 
preme love for sinners. 

The posture they have given Him is one of invitation, 
very strikingly so. He would say to the executioners: 
Stretch out My arms wide, even till the joints are strained, 
and nail Me fast by My outspread, open hands, that I may 
invite all who love and all who hate to come to Me, that 
I may fold them in My embrace and make them all My 
friends. 

And He is in a posture of generous giving : My hands 
are open and emptied of all but My blood and the nails 
that have started it — hands nailed open, oh, sinners ! and 
always dripping blood, your most precious treasure: 
Come to Me all, accept forgiveness from My pierced 
hands, and be saved. What better choice could Jesus 
make than to be nailed in an attitude of unbounded wel- 
come: "Come to me all" (Matt. xi. 28). 

A stern lesson of steadfastness in love is taught by the 
sacred nails. They served St. Paul for a strong figure of 
speech: "With Christ I am nailed to the cross" (Gal. ii. 
19) — literally, an iron resolution of fidelity to a peniten- 
tial life. The Apostle would say — and are we not all of 
the same mind? — I am fastened to a life of shame, of 
sorrow, and of self-denial, as firmly as Christ was fastened 
by nails to the cross. 

One of our Redeemer's seven sacraments (James v. 
14) is the anointing of the hands and feet and all the 
senses of the Christian, in the article of death, with sacred 
oil, the priest offering meanwhile the prayer of faith for 
the pardon of his every sin, by whatever sense committed. 



244 The Crucifixion. 

So Jesus suffered in His every sense and limb and mem- 
ber for our universal sinfulness. He was affronted and 
shocked in His eyes by the sight of His enemies ; His 
tongue was palsied by the charity of His silence; His 
ears were insulted by dreadful blasphemies ; His nostrils 
were offended by the foul odors of Golgotha ; His hands 
and feet were dug with nails ; His heart was broken in 
life and pierced in death. All this He suffered, in order 
that the sacrament of the last anointing, and every other 
sacrament of the dying and the living, might be the 
anointing of His blood for the saving of sinners. He 
would anoint our every sense and limb and thought and 
act with His love to atone for every sin we have com- 
mitted. 

"O Jesus, mortify and crucify us with Thee. Let us 
never sin by hand or foot, by eyes or mouth, or by head 
or heart. Let all our senses be a sacrifice to Thee; let 
every member sing Thy praise. Let the sacred blood 
which flowed from Thy five wounds anoint us with such 
sanctifying grace, that we may die to the world, and live 
only to Thee" (Newman's Meditations and Devotions). 



Chapter VI. 

Jesus is Lifted up on the Cross. 

They crucified Him (Matt, xxvii. 35; Mark xv. 24; Luke xxii. 
33; John xix. 18). 

"They have dug My hands and feet, they have num- 
bered all My bones" (Ps. xxi. 18). Thus Jesus felt 
when, having been nailed to the cross and made one 
thing with it, He and His cross were moved to the place 
prepared and lifted up. Every stir of the gibbet was a 
sharp pain to him; every nerve suffered, every bone 
seemed dislocated. This was especially the case while 
they raised Him in the air, and when they dropped the 
cross suddenly into the hole and then drove in stakes 
and pounded in stones about it to make it firm. At last 
He knows all that it means to be crucified — nailed hand 
and foot to a cross and hoisted in mid-air, and left hang- 
ing there slowly to die. 

Thus our Redeemer hangs patiently enduring inde- 
scribable torture of body and desolation of soul. Ten 
minutes of such suffering would seem enough to exhaust 
life; He hung there three hours. Crucifixion was well 
invented for the execution of the most degraded of crim- 
inals, for one can hardly imagine a more painful kind of 
death. 

Jesus cannot stir hand or foot. It is hardly possible 
for Him to feebly writhe His aching body. He would 



246 The Crucifixion. 

wipe from His eyes the tears and the blood and the sweat ; 
He cannot do it. His head is free, but that is only an 
additional torture, for at every least movement of it, it 
pulls upon His nailed hands with exquisite pain. Yes ; 
His head is indeed free; but the thorns that circle it 
never cease their torment — how dear a price was paid 
for Christian meekness by the crown of thorns. If He 
raises His head upright, it strikes this awful crown 
against the cross, and drives the sharp points yet deeper 
into His scalp and skull.* 

- : And all this was His deliberate choice. In His in- 
most soul He says: What sweet liberty is this, a full 
and free choice of deadly sufferings for men's souls, and 
no choice of relief. 

Oh, how deadly the harm of mortal sin, to be atoned 
for by God's Son at so fearful a cost. Oh, how stead- 
fast that purpose of Jesus to save us. Oh, how lavish 
is God of His love for sinners, and how supreme a virtue 
is pity for a fellow-mortars spiritual misfortune. 

Thus was Jesus crucified. As He was lifted up, He 
could at first but think: Was there ever such a pain as 
this — how can I live another moment? — and then close 
His eyes and wait for death. But soon he opens them 
again and gazes out upon a vast multitude of people. 
Instantly His soul's ever paramount thought resumes 
the mastery; the sight of those upturned faces draws 
from Him the most int^rsely earnest prayer of a most 

*We have already noticed the surmise of come commentators that His 
arms and chest were tied to the cross with ropes, in order to fasten His 
body to it with additional firmness. If such were the case it did not afford 
Jesus any relief, but rather the reverse; a few minutes of the drag of His 
weight upon the cords would turn them into lines of burning fire across 
His naked skin. 



Jesus is Lifted up on the Cross \ 247 

prayerful life. Jesus never was so loving, never so 
powerful a pleader as now: He is now literally the 
intermediary between earth and heaven. 

Says Father Thomas of Jesus: "He then began to 
fulfil the promise He had made us: 'If I be lifted up 
above the earth, I will draw all things unto Myself. 
Now this He said, signifying what death He should die' 
(John xii. 32, 33). For He drew heaven to Himself, 
to give us the possession of it ; God, to reconcile Him to 
the world ; the just, to inflame them with His love ; and 
sinners, to save them by penance." 

Such were the thoughts of Jesus. What were the 
thoughts of His enemies ? They had impatiently awaited 
the sight of that hateful figure lifted naked into mid-air, 
nailed to the cross and hanging helpless upon it. He 
sees them devouring Him with their flaming eyes. Then 
He hears their loud shout of triumph, and this is swelled 
into an outburst of victorious malice. 

Jesus crucified absolutely absorbed their every faculty. 
And He, too, was absorbed by the sight of them, as He 
saw them from His high place of shame and agony — 
they and all our race, whom He instantly offered to His 
Father for divine pardon and for eternal salvation. They 
were not half so eager in their looks as He was desirous 
to have their gaze fixed upon Him, and He was glad 
that they saw Him in such multitudes. 

At last! At last! The dearest wish of My life is 
granted me — I am crucified. I am about to die, and, 
ah! so lingeringly. And mine is the most painful and 
the most disgraceful death known to the human race, 
and I am glad of that, for it will save my fellow-men 
from eternal death. Let all the world come to Calvary 



248 The Crucifixion. 

and look upon Me, for My great hour of perfect love 
and perfect victory is at hand. 

Thus did the heart of Jesus go out to all men and 
all nations. To Jerusalem, whose temple and dwellings 
and people, ever so deeply loved, were right before Him ; 
all Judea and Israel ; all the peoples and tribes of the 
whole earth to its uttermost limits. This universal draw- 
ing was well expressed in after times by one who had a 
foremost place in making it effectual. St. Paul thus 
writes to his Gentile converts : "But now in Christ Jesus, 
you, who some time were afar off, are made nigh by the 
blood of Christ" (Eph. ii. 13). 

Prayer had always been our Redeemer's habit of 
mind, and it was most especially so on the cross. Here 
He would pour out His very soul in prayer to His Father, 
filling and overflowing the channels of homage between 
earth and heaven with His faith, hope, love, and sorrow. 
He made His act of faith in the entire justice and per- 
fect wisdom of His Father's dispensation in decreeing 
His crucifixion: "The right hand of the Lord hath dis- 
played its might, the right hand of the Lord hath raised 
Me up; I shall not die, but shall live and publish the 
works of the Lord" (Ps. cxvii. 16, 17). Thus Holy 
Church interprets His death-act of faith, in the Office of 
holy week. His act of hope will be offered later on 
and nearer His death in the words of another Psalm: 
"Into Thy hands I commend my spirit; Thou hast re- 
deemed Me, O Lord, the God of truth" (Ps. xxx. 6). 
His act of love will be in the incessant repetition of His 
own words : "Greater love than this hath no man, than 
that a man should give his life for his friends" (John xv. 
13). But all through His prayer of faith and hope and 



Jesus is Lifted tip on the Cross. 249 

love ran His prayer of sorrow. It was the loud voice of 
His pain of body and anguish of mind. His prayer of 
love was His prayer of penance, the act of contrition of 
Jesus crucified for our sins. 

Let us unite our prayer with His, as we kneel before 
His cross: 

"Look down upon me, good and gentle Jesus, while 
before Thy face I humbly kneel, and with burning soul 
pray and beseech Thee, to fix deep in my heart living 
sentiments of faith, hope, and charity, true contrition for 
my sins, and a firm purpose of amendment; whilst with 
great emotion and anguish of soul, I consider and con- 
template Thy five wounds, having before my eyes, O 
good Jesus, what the prophet David spoke in Thy name : 
They have dug My hands and feet, they have numbered 
all My bones." (Prayer before a crucifix, indulgenced by 
Clement VIII.) 



Chapter VII. 
The Spectacle of Jesus Crucified. 

And they sat down and watched Him. And the people stood 
beholding. And all His acquaintance, and the many women 
that had followed Him from Galilee, ministering unto Him, 
stood afar off, beholding these things. And another scripture 
saith: They shall look on Him whom they pierced (Matt, xxvii. 
36, 55; Mark xv. 40; Luke xxiii. 35, 49; John xix. 37), 

We know that Jesus bore all His woes, not only 
without repining, but even most willingly. But if we 
could say that any part of His misery was less irksome 
than another, it was that His shame and His sufferings 
were seen by so many people. He courted publicity in 
His downfall ; pride is the root of our every sin, His 
public humiliation must be the most fitting reparation. 
He pays this price in full; He is made a dreadful 
spectacle. 

When, in olden days, the Israelites who offended 
God in the wilderness repented of their sin, they were 
pardoned their guilt and healed of its penalty by looking 
with repentant eyes on the brazen serpent which God 
commanded Moses to lift up among them. This was one 
of our Redeemer's types: "And as Moses lifted up the 
serpent in the desert, so must the Son of man be lifted 
up; that whosoever believeth in Him may not perish, 
but may have life everlasting" (John iii. 14, 15). "They 
sat down and watched Him," they "stood beholding." 



The Spectacle of Jesus Crucified. 251 

A great crowd of people were near at hand and far off 
gazing intently — friends and enemies, men and women, 
vast numbers of them, and of extremely various feelings 
concerning Him. The executioners and their abettors 
and masters "sat down and watched Him." Their work 
done, these fearful creatures sat down to enjoy looking 
at "Him whom they had pierced" (Zach. xii. 10), gloat- 
ing upon His sufferings, and eagerly awaiting His gradu- 
ally approaching death. This was the final scene in the 
Jewish reception of their Messias, promised for so many 
ages, yearned after by so many generations of devout 
Hebrews, coming at last so peacefully with such a blend- 
ing of power and love, and now welcomed with the cross. 
They had begun by suspecting Him, had feared Him, 
envied Him, and, at last, they condemned Him ; they 
voted Him an impostor and a servant of the devil. Now 
He is crucified, and His death is assured; He is nailed 
to the cross and will be left there to die — they will have 
Pilate give Him the finishing stroke before sundown. 
This is how the Jews looked upon the end of Jesus of 
Nazareth. O what a spectacle ! 

"And the people stood beholding." Any execution 
is a spectacle which draws the worst of the population, 
nearly all of them to feed a brutish curiosity, a very few 
to console the wretched malefactor and his relations. 
A great multitude, therefore, came to Calvary. For 
some time Jesus had been the most conspicuous figure 
of the nation — and now He is to be crucified. Calvary 
then became the centre of interest for all the Jewish 
people. Jesus knew that thousands of curious eyes were 
fixed on His dying agonies. He was pleased with the 
presence of so great a throng, and glad that they saw 



252 The Crucifixion. 

'Him so miserably broken and ruined that they never 
;would forget the sight. And well did He know that in 
all future ages the spectacle of Jesus crucified would 
rivet the gaze of all peoples. To this day the whole multi- 
tude of the nations stands "beholding Him/' Calvary's 
interest is irresistible, its lessons inexhaustible. It so re- 
mains forever. 

Jesus did not naturally love publicity. Of His thirty- 
three years of life He spent thirty in retirement, most of 
that time alone with His mother. After that He gave 
three years to the very busy preaching of His religion 
and the organizing of His Church, appearing everywhere 
openly among the Jews; and, as the end drew nigh, 
teaching daily in Jerusalem and in the temple, always 
addressing multitudes, yet always loving solitude and 
spending much of the night time in "the prayer of God" 
(Luke vi. 12). But now He is willingly crucified, and 
imost publicly, on a hilltop overlooking the city, at high 
noon, on a day when people are gathered from the ends 
of the eartli a million strong; He is naked in the sight 
of all, His arms stretched out and nailed fast, His voice 
crying aloud to God, to saints, to sinners. Surely it took 
a heart full of love to thus end a life mostly given to 
silent prayer. He did so that He might be as open to 
us as the leaves of a book, to read in His soul and in His 
body the blessed wisdom of the divine love for sinners. 

"And the many women that had followed Him from 
Galilee, ministering unto Him; and many other women 
that came up with Him to Jerusalem, stood afar off be- 
holding." Little did these fervent souls think, when they 
bound their fortunes to the young prophet of their coun- 
try home, that they would at last behold Him crucified. 



The Spectacle of Jesus Crucified. 253 

But, woman-like, they were true till the end. Nearly all 
of them were kept at a distance. The soldiers cleared 
the immediate vicinity of the cross of all but the mother 
of Jesus, St. John and a few women besides who were 
near akin, or especially dear to Jesus, like Mary Mag- 
dalen. Anyway, the dense crowd of all the rougher ele- 
ments of the people would hinder our Savior's Galilean 
sisterhood from a near approach. But they came as 
close as they could, and they outstayed the larger part of 
the on-lookers, whom the earthquake and the darkening 
sky doubtless dispersed. 

The Church admires and forever praises the con- 
stancy of these women friends of Jesus and their un- 
shrinking courage. His holiness, His gentleness, His 
resistless religious appeals, had first attracted them ; then 
His miracles amazed them, and His tenderness for the 
wayward, His sympathy for the afflicted, and now His 
misfortunes, won them totally. They followed Him from 
first to last with unwavering loyalty. 

If these women had been allowed into the enclosure 
of Pilate's court, they would have lifted their shrill 
voices in protest. "The whole multitude" would not have 
cried out : "Crucify Him !" Waiting sadly outside of 
Pilate's court, they had doubtless kept Jesus company to 
and from Herod's palace, all but stupefied with fear of 
what was to come. 

In the pagan orient women were the slaves of men, 
and seldom were allowed out of doors. And even in the 
Israel of God women were closely shut in. Woman's 
place as man's helpmeet and equal was not rightly known 
till Jesus came, and, by His doctrine of virginity, and of 
marriage and divorce, above all by the motherhood of 



254 The Crucifixion. 

Mary, had elevated the sex to its proper dignity. And they 
returned Him a devoted allegiance, broke away from 
their homes and followed Him even to Calvary. 

But what amazement filled their souls as they gazed 
on Him crucified. What sympathy, what sobs of com- 
passion, what prayers to the heavenly Father, what hor- 
ror at th$ cruel conspirators and the executioners. How 
hard the hammers beat on their sensitive souls as they 
heard Jesus being nailed. And later on, how terrible 
and yet how sweet to them were His words from the 
Cross, uttered loud and weird with His dying voice. 

We thank Cod for the women of Calvary. For what 
man among us does not owe his salvation to his mother, 
or to his wife, or to a devout sister or daughter? The 
power of the whole sex as rulers in the realm of love 
was enhanced that day by the merit of that multitude of 
women, whose presence and whose fidelity soothed the 
last hours of their Redeemer. 

The virtue of self-denial is well taught by this spec- 
tacle. We know not what place self-love can find on 
Calvary. Where is selfishness, where is human ambition 
now? The only real glory the world has ever known is 
a share of the cross and passion of Jesus Christ, won by 
patient endurance of injuries, loving atonement to God 
for sin, both one's own and another's. And now to the 
end of the world, when any woe is bitter, it will be called 
a cross, and thus be made holy and precious. And when 
the best word of encouragement shall be spoken to one 
in distress it will be this : Bear your cross bravely in 
union with Jesus crucified. 

And self-denial of the bodily kind is taught in this 
school of unselfish suffering. Men are always saying, at 



The Spectacle of Jesus Crucified. 255 

least by their conduct: What are our bodies for, if not 
for reasonable enjoyment? St. Paul (Rom. xii. 1) 
answers them : "I beseech you, therefore, brethren, by 
the mercy of God, that you present your bodies a living 
sacrifice, holy, pleasing unto God, your reasonable ser- 
vice." We learn from this that the most reasonable use 
of bodily comfort is to make a sacrifice of it. We clearly 
understand what reasonable bodily enjoyment is if we 
sit down and watch Jesus on Calvary. Then we learn 
our lesson of sacrifice, Christ being teacher and pattern 
both. What did He devote His body to, He, who is di- 
vine reason itself? Here is known and approved the 
reasonableness of a mortified life. 

How close our imitation of the bodily sufferings of 
Jesus might be, the Apostle tells us in the next chapter 
(verse 14) : "But put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ, and 
make not provision for the flesh in its concupiscences." 
Put His maxims of self-denial on your soul like a gar- 
ment; imprint the memory of His death indelibly on 
your mind. And make no provision for, that is to say 
totally ignore, the fleshly enjoyments of life. 

All this is the Christian's answer to the self-indulgent 
complaining against bodily austerity as unreasonable, and 
saying that "moderate enjoyment," and not a living sac- 
rifice, should be the rule. What was Christ's bodily con- 
dition when He was making sure of our eternal enjoy- 
ment of soul and body in heaven ? 

Oh, how many virtues flow into our souls by our 
looking upon Him whom we have pierced, sitting out 
our watch upon Calvary — humility, patience, self-denial 
for the sake of God and man, obedience to the Divine 
will, even when shown through the perverse will of men, 



256 The Crucifixion. 

and especially love. Love is exalted in all its glory upon 
Calvary. 

"We adore Thee, O Christ, and we praise Thee, be- 
cause by Thy holy cross Thou hast redeemed the world." 
I adore Thee, O Lamb of God, who hast now taken away 
the sins of the world by the offering of Thy life to Thy 
offended Father. I adore Thee, O Jesus crucified, and I 
love Thee. I will be true to Thee forever, both in my in- 
nermost soul by faith in Thy doctrine of penance, and in 
my outward behavior by daily imitation of Thy self- 
denial on Calvary. 



PART VI. 

The Seven Last Words. 

Chapter I. 

Jesus Speaks from the Cross. 

For this was I born, for this came I into the world; that I 
should give testimony to the truth (John xviii, 37). 

But you are come ... to Jesus the Mediator of the New 
Testament, and to the sprinkling of blood which speaketh better 
than that of Abel (Heb. xii. 22-24). 

Who in the days of His flesh, with a strong cry and tears, 
offering up prayers and supplications to Him that was able to save 
Him from death, was heard for His reverence (Heb. v. 7). 

For the word of the cross, to them indeed that perish, is fool- 
ishness ; but to them that are saved, that is, to us, it is the power 
of God (I. Cor. i. 18). 

Jesus had been almost entirely silent before Pilate and the 
chief priests, and said not a single word to King Herod. 
And on the cross He speaks not many words, but they 
are more full of meaning than any He ever uttered : the 
Divine Word Incarnate will speak His highest wisdom 
at the end of His earthly career. "The tree on which 
were fastened the limbs of the sufferer was also the seat 
of the Master and teacher/' says St. Augustine. The 
divine life on earth was all praying, preaching, and suf- 
fering. And so it ended. 

And His sermon on Calvary was for all men. He 
there spoke to His enemies. They "sat and watched 



258 The Seven Last Words. 

Him" with fierce looks, blaspheming Him with incredible 
bitterness; and He with all His suffering looked upon 
them and heard what they said with the utmost kindness 
of heart; He forgave them, prayed for them publicly, 
openly excused their crime, and offered His death for 
them, a death they themselves had brought upon Him. 
He spoke to the penitent thief. It was a word of pardon 
and a promise of paradise; he is known forever as the 
good thief from that word. Jesus also spoke to His 
mother and to the disciple whom He loved, exchanging 
place with him as Mary's son. Having thus preached 
to friends and foes alike, He then addressed His Father. 
He uttered a final word of tender protest, the complaint 
of mercy against justice, a heart-moving proof that the 
unbearable desolation of spirit with which He began His 
passion in the Garden had returned upon Him as He 
ended it, or rather that it had never left Him. As if an echo 
of this cry of abandonment, He proclaimed aloud His 
burning thirst for souls, feebly shown by that of His body 
in the throes of death. And then He announced the com- 
pletion of His task, and claimed His Father's loving 
welcome for His fleeting spirit. Jesus finally opened 
wide the prison doors of His body, and with a loud cry 
of atoning sorrow for our sins, He bowed His head and 
died. Thus, as the cross was the summary of all His 
penitential pains, so its words are an abridgment of all 
His offerings of prayer, all His lessons of pardon, hope, 
and love. 

"The w T ords of the Lord are searched with fire" (Ps. 
xvii. 3), says the Psalmist. The fire of love is suffer- 
ing, and it was heated seven-fold on the cross as it 
searched our Lord's words. Never has any discourse 



Jesus Speaks from the Cross. 259 

kindled love in men's hearts as the seven words of Jesus 
crucified. Never did ignorance find so plain a teacher, 
or stupidity so patient a one; never did human wisdom 
meet so supreme a master, or malice yield so complete 
a victory to the arms of patient love. 

Think, too, that as Jesus spoke these words He feared 
that each one of them might be His last. With what 
carefulness He chose them, and how truly do they reveal 
His heart. Well may St. Paul exclaim: "Who, then, 
shall separate us from the love of Christ ?" (Rom. viii. 
35), bound to His cross as we are by these seven golden 
links. 

The most precious part of every man's life is his 
dying moments. Our Redeemer dedicated His last hours 
on earth exclusively to atoning sufferings and merciful 
words. He forgot justice, except as He felt conscious 
that He was its victim. Mercy alone inspired His words 
on the cross. If He realized more vividly than ever the 
malignity of sin — and His torments made this inevitable 
— He yet turned the lesson all into sympathy for the 
guilty. 

But, though His words are the most precious ever 
spoken, the crucified is Himself the strongest appeal to 
sinners. What man can yield to sensuality and honestly 
call Jesus crucified his Master? — or to worldly vanity, 
to craving for riches, to pursuit of enemies? Look at 
Him, fastened in that frightful position by His own free 
choice, more firmly than by the nails. See Him hoisted 
high above the many thousands of His countrymen naked 
upon a gibbet, slashed with whips, crowned with thorns, 
placarded an impostor, convicted a blasphemer, wracked 
in every nerve with indescribable pain, wracked in His 



260 The Seven Last Words. 

tenderest emotions by visions of the damnation of those 
He loved better than His own life. Look at Jesus cruci- 
fied; and, if you own yourself a follower of Him, you 
cannot withstand the eloquence of the crucifixion plead- 
ing for faith in God's love and sorrow for sin. 

A very practical lesson is this. As His words spoken 
from the cross are Jesus' most persuasive discourse, so 
our words spoken in the spirit of Christian self-sacrifice 
will win more souls than any others. So says the great- 
est persuader of men among our Redeemer's followers: 
'Tor both the Jews require signs, and the Greeks seek 
after wisdom. But we preach Christ crucified, unto the 
Jews indeed a stumbling block and unto the Gentiles 
foolishness. But unto them that are called both Jews 
and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of 
God" (I. Cor. i. 22-24). 



Chapter II. 
Jesus is Taunted by His Enemies. 

And they that passed by blasphemed Him, wagging their 
heads and saying : Bah ! Thou that destroyest the temple of God, 
and in three days dost rebuild it, save Thy own self. If Thou 
be the Son of God, come down from the cross. In like manner 
the chief priests, the rulers, with the scribes and ancients, mock- 
ing, said one to another: He saved others, Himself He cannot 
save. Let Christ, the chosen of God, the King of Israel, come 
down now from the cross, that we may see and believe. He 
trusted in God, let Him now deliver Him if He will have Him, 
for He said: I am the Son of God. And the soldiers also 
mocked Him, coming to Him and offering Him vinegar, and say- 
ing: If Thou be the King of the Jews, save Thyself. And the 
selfsame thing the thieves also, that were crucified with Him, 
reproached Him with. And one of those robbers who were 
hanged, blasphemed Him, saying: If Thou be Christ, save Thy- 
self and us (Matt, xxvii. 39-44; Mark xv. 29-32; Luke xxiii. 
35-39). 

As Jesus looked down upon those who were to listen 
to His dying message, He saw the place swarming with 
blasphemers; and the air was hideous with their jibes and 
curses. It was a vast concourse of people. There 
was the multitude gathered by the chief priests early in 
the day, and who had demanded His death and had 
fought hard for it; not one of them but would go to 
Calvary to see their victory complete. But they were 
not all. This great crowd was swelled by many thou- 
sands of others, for the trial of Jesus was the absorbing 
event of that day, and all, even strangers, would await 



262 The Seven Last Words. 

His fate, and most of them be curious to witness it. All 
these took some part in the revilings of Jesus on Calvary. 

The chief priests and the many leading Jews who 
were with them blasphemed Him; the outlaws on either 
side of Him blasphemed Him, though one of them after- 
wards repented; the soldiers also mocked Him and blas- 
phemed Him; and "they that passed by blasphemed 
Him"; the whole multitude seems to have filed along 
under the cross before returning to the city, both out of 
curiosity to get a close view of the arch-traitor, and to 
make sure of His hearing their curses in His death hour. 
That dismal procession the chief priests would arrange 
and manage, as the guard was subject to them. With 
them were the doctors of the law and the members of the 
council and many Pharisees. These never quitted Jesus 
till they saw Him expire. 

As to what our Savior's feelings were, we can judge 
from the blasphemies He was forced to hear. But those 
that are recorded are, we may be certain, only part of 
what were actually uttered; for the Pharisees would be 
sure to repeat their old accusations : Thou wast possessed 
of a devil, they would shout; Thy miracles were worked 
by Beelzebub; Thou art that most vile impostor, who, 
pretending to be a Jew, and the King of the Jews, wast 
really a wretched Samaritan, one of a race of accursed 
heretics whom Thou didst ever prefer before the people 
of God. Deny it if Thou canst. 

"He trusted in God, let Him now deliver Him." The 
only real comfort of a dying man is in His trust in God. 
The enemies of Jesus did their utmost to deprive Him of 
this last support in His death agony. Well had He 
called them children of the devil, for the fiend's dearest 



Jesus is Taunted by His Enemies. 263 

wish and hardest effort is to rob a dying sinner of con- 
fidence in God — during life his favorite temptation is 
over-confidence in God and, at the point of death, despair. 
Consider the malice of triumphing in your dying enemy's 
despair. Immune as Jesus was from anything like 
despair, they did not think that He was, and Jesus by 
these most dreadful taunts could all the more fully realize 
what it means to despair of God's mercy, and this would 
aid Him in atoning for that sin and saving men from it. 
Thus was Jesus taunted; and especially reproached that 
He was under the malediction of heaven. "He trusted 
in God," they said — meaning that He did so hypocriti- 
cally — " let Him now deliver Him." "If Thou be the 
Son of God come down from the cross." If He is not an 
imposter and His miracles a deception (such was their 
meaning), then let Him prove it by coming down from 
the cross. Did He really save others? Then He can 
save Himself. So said all His enemies. It was from 
"the chief priests with the scribes and ancients," that they 
got their words — "they that passed by," "the soldiers 
also," "the selfsame thing the thieves also." "Let Christ, 
the King of Israel, come down now from the cross, that 
we may see and believe." We will believe Him, they 
said with bitter irony, and accept His claim of Kingship, 
if He saves Himself from crucifixion. 

We can hardly help asking, why did He not take them 
at their word? How complete a victory it would have 
been, we are tempted to think, if He had suddenly left 
the cross, transfigured with triumphant power, rebuked 
them on the spot, and taken possession of the city, then 
and there establishing His religion on the ruins of His 
conquered enemies. 



264 The Seven Last Words. 

How different was the divine plan. It was exactly 
because He would not save Himself, but that He willed 
to give up His life for all, friend and enemy, that "God 
hath given Him a name which is above every name" 
(Phil. ii. 9). No; He does not seek the triumph of 
power, but of patience. And is not the power of love 
in His death and in His resurrection the power of God? 
"It was a mightier deed," says St. Gregory the Great, 
"to destroy death by dying and rising again, than to save 
life by descending from the cross." His mother Mary 
did not beseech Him to come down — she who could say : 
If Thou be my Son grant me this one boon — save Thy- 
self. The crucifixion pierced her very soul; but she 
knew the higher wisdom, that he that shall lose his life 
for the salvation of his brethren shall save it (Matt. x. 
39). Nor did the Heavenly Father agree. He would 
say to Jesus : If Thou askest it, I will not refuse. But 
wilt Thou rescind our compact? If so, then it never can 
be written that I so loved the world as to give My only- 
begotten Son for its salvation. Thou must rescind Thy 
other compact, too — that with men ; for it has been prom- 
ised that a whole burnt offering shall be made of Thee 
among all the nations from the rising of the sun till its 
setting (Mai. i. 11). Nor will it be true: "This is My 
body which shall be given for you"; nor: "This is My 
blood which shall be shed for you" ; no, nor this wonder- 
ful word : "As often as you shall eat this bread and drink 
this chalice, you shall show forth the death of the Lord 
until He come" (I. Cor. xi. 24-26). And if Thou dost 
now shrink from the doom of death, then shalt Thou be 
hindered of the glory of Thy resurrection. 

And so we, on our part, as we recall with terror that 



Jesus is Taunted by His Enemies. 265 

fierce cry : "Come down from the cross I" even we say to 
Him: "O Jesus, we thank Thee that Thou didst not 
come down, but didst remain and die upon the cross." 

To apply this lesson to practical life, let us realize 
that the supreme power of a Christian is no other than 
that of Christ; namely, unfeigned meekness under in- 
jurious treatment; this is the Christian's foremost mir- 
acle. But how hard for flesh and blood ; how hard even 
to admire. Yet the example of Christ, no less than His 
invariable teaching, enforces this doctrine. God is pleased 
better by sincere affection for those who ill use us, af- 
fection shown by our prayers for them and by our yield- 
ing to them everything consistent with God's honor, than 
He is by our claiming our rights and enforcing them. It 
was by no other means that our Redeemer overcame the 
world. Who would wish that it had been otherwise? — 
that, for example, he really had called down fire from 
heaven to consume His enemies ? What Christian envies 
the Mahometans their apostolate of the sword? What 
Christian would be glad to read in history that Peter, 
James, and John led the armies that destroyed Jerusalem 
instead of Vespasian and Titus? Who is not glad that 
the mightest of rulers rules from the cross and is the 
King of Martyrs ? 



Chapter III. 
The First Word; "Father, Forgive them/' 

And Jesus said: Father, forgive them, for they know not 
what they do (Luke xxiii. 34). 

The silence of Jesus before His accusers, in both the 
Jewish and Roman courts was, as we have often noticed, 
seldom broken. By word of mouth He answered scarce- 
ly at all to their tongue lashings or whip lashings, but 
"Like a lamb He was led to the slaughter, opening not 
His mouth" (Isaias liii. 7). It was otherwise on 
Calvary. When He heard their deafening yell of triumph 
as He was lifted above the crowd, nailed upon His cross, 
their greeting of triumphant hate appalled Him, and He 
answered it instantly. His answer was a prayer to His 
Father for their forgiveness; though, indeed, "Father, 
forgive them!" had been His mental ejaculation at every 
indignity they offered Him, every spatter of verbal venom 
which accompanied the spittle of their mouths and the 
blows of their fists from the beginning of His passion. 

This prayer of Jesus is most instructive to us. For 
we ask : What dying man but would sink away in deep- 
er than deathly silence at the sight of his murderers, 
their grim delight, their fiendish triumph, hissing their 
curses upon him in his last moments? Not so Jesus. 
Much as He lamented their sin, they were the ones whom 
He would choose to have nearest to Him when He died, 



The First Word. 267 

even these His deadliest foes. He died devotedly loving 
them ; loving them, indeed, in preference to any other sin- 
ners in the world. 

Thus Jesus, having mounted His pulpit, begins His 
last discourse with a prayer for the pardon of His slay- 
ers. But we are startled by the boldness of His plea in 
their behalf — it is their ignorance. One would think this 
to be their weakest excuse, for admitting that they knew 
not what they did, yet their ignorance was wilful, and it 
was perverse. They could know all about Jesus if they 
were not determined beforehand not to know. 

He was everywhere foretold most plainly in the script- 
tires "read every Sabbath day in the synagogues'' (Acts 
xiii. 2j). They had seen Him and heard Him personal- 
ly many times, especially during the last few months, 
when He taught almost daily in the temple itself. For 
two years and more they had had their messengers in 
close observation of Him wherever He went, watching 
Him and studying Him and reporting about Him. And 
His whole doctrine was the love of God and man, proved 
by marvelous miracles, all of them of priceless worth to 
the afflicted. Yet the leading members of the priesthood 
and the principal men among the Pharisees were so 
blinded by pride of race and of caste that they would see 
nothing good in Him ; His offense was that He taught a 
highly spiritual religion and opened the door of God's 
paradise to all the nations of the earth. 

A good test of their guilt is this: What Jew of our 
day, however set in his delusion, will maintain that Jesus 
of Nazareth was rightly put to death? Such a thing is 
unheard of. 

Everything that a true Israelite yearned after, Jesus 



268 The Seven Last Words. 

completely fulfilled; yea, and infinitely more. But the 
Jews were called upon to give up a religion of outward 
figures and types for one of the interior substance of 
faith and hope and love; and they must accept the uni- 
versal brotherhood of all of God's children in place of 
their exclusive national church. Many thousands of their 
best men heartily accepted this teaching, because they 
knew it was right. Why did not the conspirators know- 
it likewise ? Their ignorance was their worst offence, we 
would think, being the very name and color of their crime, 
nay its actual substance. All that proved Jesus to be 
their Messias and the Son of God they knew better than 
a child knows his primer. 

Yet Jesus insists that they know nothing. He is the 
searcher of hearts, and He is their apologist, as much as 
He is their victim. He must be right. Granting, He 
would say, that their ignorance is vicious to the last de- 
gree, it is ignorance all the same. They do not blaspheme 
nor kill one whom they believe to be their Messias, 
though they do perversely refuse to consider His claims. 
The Jewish rulers really did not know the full wickedness 
of what they did against Jesus. What though they read 
of Him in their Scriptures ? They read everything about 
the Messias with preconceived ideas. It was written in 
the book they loved and read, and yet hidden from their 
eyes; for "if they had known it," says St. Paul, "they 
would never have crucified the Lord of Glory" (I. Cor. 
ii. 8). 

And there were other really mitigating circumstances 
besides. Perhaps the most irascible temperament in all 
history was that of the Israelites. And they habitually 
mistook their angry passions and resentments for re- 



The First Word. 269 

ligious zeal, "zeal for God, but not according to know- 
ledge" (Rom. x. 2), says one who was a perfect type of 
a Jewish zealot, and who, with all his humility, yet ex- 
cuses his own murder of Christians before His 
conversion on Jesus' plea for His murderers (I. 
Tim. i. 13). Their crime was greatly due to mental habit 
and racial temperament. Listen to the same Apostle ex- 
cusing the Jews of a later period for misunderstanding 
the law: "But even until this day when Moses is read, 
the veil is upon their heart" (II. Cor. iii. 15). Let us 
agree with our Redeemer — it was hard to read the glory 
of the Son of God in the crucifixion of Jesus of Nazareth. 
It was "the wisdom of God in a mystery" (I. Cor. ii. 7), 
hidden from all but the most pure of heart. "Out of the 
fullness of the heart the mouth speaketh" (Matt. xii. 34). 
Yes ; and out of the fullness of the heart the eye readeth, 
rightly or wrongly. 

Truly these wretched men were not as guilty in 
Christ's judgment as they are in ours. To Him they 
were wayward children, blinded and misled; culpable, 
indeed, but excusable. And, we too, if we are like Christ, 
can always find some real excuse for those who harm us, 
as we have an indispensable obligation to pray for them, 
whether excusable or not. 

But, after all, Jesus on the cross would plead for the 
Jews whether they could be excused or not. Jesus cru- 
cified is incapable of administering justice. He is now 
most truly Himself — a Redeemer, an advocate, a victim 
of sinners. Justice He did threaten in the proper time 
and place, but Calvary is not the place and His death 
agony is not the time for anything but mercy, and mercy 
that shall be absolutely unstinted. Ignorance, malicious 



270 The Seven Last Words. 

and blind, is met by mercy, equally blind and wholly un- 
limited. 

Thus His poor broken heart kindles with compassion 
for His very murderers. While they are putting Him to 
death under every circumstance of injustice and hate 
and cruelty, He prays for their forgiveness. They are 
His murderers, and He is their advocate for pardon, in- 
stant, ardent, persistent advocate, full of unheard of ex- 
cuses. 

And all this is uniform with His teaching from the be- 
ginning. He who said : "Blessed are the merciful, for 
they shall obtain mercy" (Matt. v. 7) — oh, how readily 
He forgives these His most unmerciful enemies. Had 
He not commanded us : "Love your enemies, pray for them 
that persecute you" (Matt. v. 43) ? Who was so unjust- 
ly persecuted as He was? Whose enemies were so un- 
lovely? So He loved them, and He prayed for them 
with His dying breath. "Out of the fullness of the heart 
the mouth speaketh" (Matt. xii. 34). What His heart 
was full of in this His hour of gloom and torment, is 
shown by these words of pitiful prayer for His enemies. 

They had accused Him of being "a friend of publicans 
and sinners" (Luke vii. 35) ; He now proves that He was 
no less a friend of Pharisees and Sadducees. Oh, how 
He pitied them ! On the instant that He heard their in- 
sults, He seemed to forget His pains, to forget every- 
thing in an overmastering sentiment of compassion: 
"Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." 
He could have prayed thus in silence, making His plea 
in His silent thoughts, and His Father who seeth in 
secret would have granted His petition. But He was too 
deeply stirred with pity to pray silently, and His voice 



The First Word. 271 

rang out clear and loud, trembling with anxiety to hinder 
the wrath of God, resistlessly moved by emotions of love 
and of grief. His inmost soul was so full of entreaty 
that He could not be silent. His whole being, divine and 
human, is in that prayer; His form lifted upwards to- 
wards heaven, His hands stretched out and nailed fast 
in a perfect attitude of petition, His voice cleaving the 
skies, His eyes flowing tears, His many wounds dripping 
blood — all that is meant by Jesus, the world's Redeemer, 
is concentrated in that prayer for His murderers, for the 
worst men who ever lived : "Father, forgive them, for 
they know not what they do." 

How supreme a virtue is compassion for sinners. How 
adorable is Christ amid all the shame and torture of the 
cross praying for His triumphant enemies. 

Apart from the consciousness of doing His Father's 
will, three things, and these alone, relieved Jesus of the 
strain of His torture, whether of body or of soul — pray- 
ing for His enemies, suffering for them, and setting us an 
example; prayer could not be more fervent, suffering 
more exquisitely perfect, example more attractive. 

Since that day no prayers are so fervently said or so 
quickly heard as those that men offer for their enemies, 
and even for the enemies of religion and of God. Let 
us remember, too, that His prayer was not for the Jews 
alone, but also for the Gentile soldiers who did their 
bidding and joined in their insults; so that then and 
there He "might reconcile both [Gentiles and Jews] to 
God in one body by the cross" (Eph. ii. 16). 

How consoling is all this to us sinners. As our Re- 
deemer in heaven remembers the pains we caused Him by 
our sins, instead of being for that reason angry with us, 



272 The Seven Last Words. 

His heart is moved with irresistible tenderness to palliate 
our guilt before His Father. He is now our "advocate 
with the Father, Jesus Christ the Just" (I. John iL i), 
praying for us as once He died for us. 

It was thus that God's great preacher and ours began 
his sermon on Calvary. The First Word of the Cross is : 
"Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." 
Formerly : "This is My beloved Son, in whom I am well 
pleased, hear ye Him" (Matt. xvii. 5), was the Father's 
word from the sky when Christ was transfigured with 
divine glory on Mount Tabor. Much rather does the 
Father approve Him and His teaching now on Mount 
Calvary, at the very gate of death, desolate, abandoned, 
suffering every indignity. His cross is a better pulpit 
than the luminous cloud of Tabor, and Moses and Elias 
yield their places to the two malefactors, who, with the 
frantic Jews and the heartless soldiers, are the Redeem- 
er's chosen companions in His last agony. As soon as I 
suffer an injury I have a choice of several mental atti- 
tudes, I can either fix my thoughts with aversion on those 
who make me suffer; or I can think exclusively of my- 
self and hug my misery with self-condolence ; or I can set 
aside both these (which are usually joined in one) and 
strive manfully to imitate Jesus crucified in forgiving my 
enemies and praying for them. Which of these states 
of mind best becomes me as a Christian ? 

And let us not be puffed up in comparing ourselves 
even with Caiaphas and his associates. Doubtless we can 
truly say that, however bad we are, we are not so bad as 
the Jews who killed Christ. But we are none of us good 
enough to be saved without Christ making some kind of 
excuses for us in His Father's court. 



Chapter IV. 

The Second Word: "This Day thou shalt be with Me 
in Paradise." 

And the selfsame thing the thieves also, that were crucified 
with Him, reproached Him with. And one of those who were : 
hanged, blasphemed Him, saying: If Thou be Christ, save Thy-] 
self and us. But the other, answering, rebuked him, saying:! 
Neither dost thou fear God, seeing that thou art under the same 
condemnation? And we indeed justly, for we receive the due 
reward of our deeds; but this Man hath done no evil. And he 
said to Jesus : Lord, remember me when Thou shalt come into 
Thy Kingdom. And Jesus said to him: Amen, I say to thee, 
this day thou shalt be with Me in Paradise (Matt, xxvii. 44; 
Mark xv. 32; Luke xxiii. 39-43). 

It would seem that the good thief at first joined with 
the bad one in insulting Jesus, and afterwards, moved 
perhaps by our Redeemer's patience, or even by some 
unrecorded words of affectionate protest from Him, re- 
pented of the wrong he had done Him, and reproved the 
other thief for his blasphemous insults. Then he felt deep- 
ly moved with sorrow for his sins, for Jesus touched his 
heart by a secret influence, bestowing on him the grace 
of repentance Izr all the wickedness of his bad life. He 
openly confessed that he was justly executed and in due 
reward of his misdeeds. Following this he paid our Re- 
deemer sincere allegiance as his King: "Lord," he cried, 
"remember me when Thou shalt come into Thy King- 
dom." 

It was a timid prayer, but it was enough. Jesus was 



274 The Seven Last Words. 

not content to say: I will not forget thee, thou poor 
comrade of my shame and woe. But He instantly ad- 
dressed him with His most solemn form of speech^ 
"Amen, I say to thee, this day thou shalt be with Me in' 
Paradise." This is the second part or division of ouiv 
crucified preacher's sermon. 

How glad the Jews were that Jesus was crucified be- 
tween the two thieves. And Jesus was glad, too ; the worse 
the sinner, the better the companion; so thought Jesus. 
"The good thief" is this man's name in all Christendom 
ever since. It is a bold paradox, "the good thief," but a 
reflex of our Redeemer's mind, who would lavish upon 
malefactors the terms of endearment usually given to 
the virtuous. , 

These two thieves were our Savior's thieves, and He 
saved one of them, to our inexpressible consolation. The 
softening of that heart is a miracle of more worth to us 
than the rending of the rocks when our Lord expired. I 

The mother of the sons of Zebedee had once begged 
for them the two places of honor in Jesus' Kingdom 
(Mark x. 37). That privilege the Father had reserved 
for these two thieves. Had Salome and her sons known 
that an enthronement in His Kingdom meant crucifixion, 
she would not have asked the favor so eagerly, and they 
would have better understood His answer : "Can you 
drink of the chalice that I shall drink of ?" How singular 
it all is; these two favorite Apostles were refused the 
high places, and the Father granted them to two thieves. 
The good thief is not made an apostle. But, as an an- 
cient writer says, he is our Redeemer's colleague in the 
crucifixion ; we may add that he is His advocate, and de- 
fender against the other thief, he is also His public wor- 



The Second Word. 275 

shipper, even on Calvary, and His chosen escort at His 
first entrance into Paradise — meanwhile, only a crucified 
robber. Surely the grace of repentance is a royal grace. 

O Jesus, Thy blessed Providence saved the good thief 
by causing him to be crucified. Teach me that in my 
own case Thou hast no other plan for changing a sinner 
into a penitent, nor even changing a timid friend into 
Thy fervent disciple, except crucifying the flesh with its 
vices and concupiscences (Gal. v. 24). 

But not only repentance but faith also is here raised 
on high for our behoof. For against all appearances did 
this man believe that Christ had a kingdom ; as if to say : 
Here art Thou treated by both Jew and Gentile as the 
vilest of men ; yet do I openly proclaim Thee the Master 
of the Kingdom of Heaven. Thus St. Gregory says that 
the good thief "was on the cross and nothing of him re- 
mained free from punishment but his heart and his 
tongue. With his heart he believed unto justification and 
with his tongue he confessed unto salvation" (Rom. x. 
10). It cost the thief a painful effort to speak; yet he 
defended Jesus vigorously and confessed Him openly. 
And St. Augustine says that others believed in Christ be- 
cause they saw Him raise the dead to life ; the thief be- 
lieved though he saw Him hanging with himself on the 
cross. 

Sweeter solace to Jesus than the visit of an angel were 
the faith and contrition of this thief. Sinners, not angels, 
were the quest of Jesus. How He must have been con- 
soled by the change in the thief from the ' "tter mind in 
the first moments of the crucifixion to the gentle affection 
of this brave act of loyalty. 

Consider how different crucifixion was to our Re- 
deemer's convert after receiving His quick response: 



276 The Seven Last Words. 

"Amen, I say to thee, this day thou shalt be with Me in 
Paradise"; meaning, I will lead thee from Golgotha and 
crucifixion to the peaceful rest of the holy patriarchs, 
This day is sad enough for thee and Me, but before set 
of sun we two shall begin together the life of eternal 
bliss. I bid thee bravely endure thy pains, they are 
God's final test of thy worthiness to be saved. 

How many thoughts claimed our Redeemer's mind 
that hour. Nations to be saved, many generations of men 
yet unborn — Jew and Gentile, bond and free. Yet He 
gave His whole mind instantly to this robber, and exclud- 
ed all else till he made sure that he was saved ; as if He 
had no other reason for coming to Calvary, but to give a 
happy death to an obscure outlaw. 

Surely no act is so conspicuous in our religion as an act 
of holy contrition; it is lifted up with Jesus above the 
earth, enthroned with Him on Calvary, led away as His 
best trophy in His immortal triumph. 

"And we indeed justly" suffer, confessed the robber. 
No words could give better evidence of true repentance, 
as Jesus in a few days will show by making of sorrow 
for sin and its confession a Christian sacrament. How 
sweet a balm was this humble confession to our Redeem- 
er's stricken soul, whose whole life was devoted to in- 
spiring just such sentiments. 

And as the thief confesses his own guilt he shows the 
reason why, for it was thereby that he would proclaim 
Christ's innocence and holiness, for he adds immediately : 
"But this Man has done no wrong." What a contrast 
with the chief priests. How dull their perceptions. This 
poor wretch, scourged and nailed and dying, sees and 
hears enough to recognize the Son of God in another cru- 
cified malefactor, and quickly changes curses to acts of 



The Second Word. 277 

faith and adoration. And if you say that he was moved 
to it by Christ's prayer for His enemies, I answer that the 
other thief despised the same patient demeanor of Jesus 
as a cowardly weakness. No wonder our Lord's response 
was swift. And remember, too, how slow He had been 
to give up Judas ; how quick He is to take up the thief. 

Perhaps, as already suggested, it was our Redeemer's 
patience under injuries and His wonderful charity to His 
enemies that (apart from the secret stirrings of grace) 
converted the good thief. His conversion should, on that 
account, please us all the better, rather indeed, than if 
Christ had miraculously come down from the cross and 
taken down both thieves with Him. Jesus certainly chose 
rather to save the thief from hell than to save Himself 
from death, as his enemies bantered Him to do. To 
change one enemy into a friend is to Christ a more notable 
exploit than to rout and slay a million enemies of God. 
And He strictly enjoins the same preference upon us. 

As a place of rating of saints and sinners, of inno- 
cence and repentance, Calvary gives a high premium to 
innocence, the most perfect in the immaculate Mother and 
the beloved Apostle; and to penance for iniquity of the 
darkest dye in Magdalen and the good thief. The graces 
of Mary, John, and Magdalen are each a token to us of a 
certain kind of divine favor ; and so is the good thief our 
Redeemer's pledge to us of a precious grace. Let a man 
but come in a humble spirit to Calvary, nay, let him even 
be dragged there all against his will, and, however blas- 
phemous a sinner he may have been, even on Calvary 
itself Jesus will save him ; and however great a boon he 
may ask, Jesus will grant it to him on the spot. 

To Jesus His fellow-crucified were not the only rob- 



278 The Seven Last Words. 

bers there. The Jewish conspirators were robbers. They 
had robbed the people of God of their Savior, they had 
robbed the King of Israel of His kingdom. And when 
they blasphemed Him He entreated His Father to for- 
give them. This other robber is now embraced by a 
mercy whose effects are more evident — this poor ruf- 
fian, born and bred, most likely, amid every degrading 
influence, and at last justly put to death, is drawn gra- 
ciously to penance, and is granted pardon most generous- 

ly. 

Let us duly remember that at holy Mass we are daily 
promised the same heavenly gift from the Calvary of the 
Eucharistic Christ for all sinners present there. How 
very much of sweetness does this Second Word of our 
Preacher's dying discourse add to the all-sublime wisdom 
of our religion. O Jesus, we love Thee and we thank 
Thee for Thy mercy to the poor thief. 

Jesus answered the prayer of the good thief instantly ; 
He did not answer the blasphemies of the impenitent one 
at all. That duty he left to the good thief. It greatly 
pleased our Lord that the good thief thus reproved his 
companion and exhorted him to repent; and it is note- 
worthy that the penitent malefactor strived to save his 
friend, even before making sure of his own salvation — 
with what effect we cannot be sure, though the more 
probable opinion is not hopeful. The unhappy man was 
lost because he would not be saved. The loss of our Re- 
deemer's fellow-sufferer was no small addition to His 
own anguish of heart. Is there no lesson for us in this ? 
— that the gracious promise, "This day thou shalt be 
with Me in Paradise," was foolishness to one of the 
thieves, while it was eternal happiness to the other ? 



Chapter V. 

The Third Word: "Woman, Behold thy Son!" 
Mary before the Crucifixion. 

Now there stood by the cross of Jesus, His mother, and His 
mother's sister, Mary of Cleophas, and Mary Magdalen. When 
Jesus, therefore, had seen His mother and the disciple standing 
whom He loved, He saith to His mother: Woman, behold thy 
son. After that, He saith to the disciple: Behold thy mother. 
And from that hour, the disciple took her to his own (John xix. 
25-27). 

Before considering Mary's part in the events of Cal- 
vary, let us revert to what happened to her previously. 
There is no revealed account of our Redeemer's parting 
with His mother before He began His passion. Doubt- 
less it was a most affectionate interview, and very 
sorrowful. It took place, perhaps, as He left the supper- 
room for the Garden of Olives; or, as many surmise, at 
Bethany, previous to His last visit to the city. Their 
tryst was Calvary. She was, of course, absolutely con- 
formed to the divine will for every pang of soul and tor- 
ture of body that Jesus should endure. "He was offered 
because He willed it" (Isaias liii. 7), told His mind; and 
His mind was hers — she willed His sacrifice most loving- 
ly. For, she would say, He is mine to offer because I am 
His mother, and willingly do I offer Him. Thus Mary 
loved our redemption as became the mother of the Re- 
deemer. And, therefore, during all that was about to 
happen, right on to the very end, Mary, we may be quite 
certain, showed none of the weaknesses common to worn- 



280 The Seven Last Words. 

en in great affliction, no fainting fits nor hysterics; hers 
was too strong a nature, hers too great an affliction for 
such things; or we should rather say, that her mother- 
hood was too high an office to allow her to be subject to 
ordinary natural defects. 

But how greatly must she not have suffered. There 
can be little doubt that those prophecies of His passion 
and death, which Jesus made to His disciples, He made 
much earlier to her alone and in far greater detail, living 
so long, so intimately, and so lovingly in her society. 
We must also remember that Simeon's prophecy, "Thine 
own soul a sword shall pierce" (Luke ii. 35^, could not 
at any time have been far from her thoughts. It was, 
therefore, by arrangement with her son, at the parting in- 
terview, that she at last took her station beneath the 
cross, making that picture of mother and Son on Cal- 
vary which is hardly rivalled in our affection even by 
that of the Madonna and Child at Bethlehem. 

He had undoubtedly bidden her come to Him in His 
death agony, there to open her heart to receive her full 
share of all His woes, to receive also His parting message, 
see Him die, and bury His corpse with her own hands. 
Thus it was that in their farewell interview mother and 
Son mingled their tears together, exchanged words of 
mutual encouragement, and appointed their next meeting 
place; absolute confidence on the part of Jesus, together 
with deep sympathy for His mother's bereavement; on 
her part rapt adoration of the divine mercy in the atone- 
ment of her Son, and an intense longing for the final 
test of all her love for Him beneath His cross. 

The beginning of our Savior's career on earth had 
been the utterance of Mary's response to the angel : "Be 



The Third Word. 281 

it done unto me according to thy word" (Luke 1. 38), for 
it was then that the Word was made flesh. No other 
words could so well express her mind at the end of her 
Son's life; may God's will be done. Thus she accepted 
beforehand her place upon Calvary, and was clothed with 
the awful dignity of Mother of Sorrows, her soul in en- 
tire corformity with the divine will, and in absolute unity 
with her Son's love for sinners. 

For these reasons her relation to Christ crucified is 
most sacred to us, its study most beneficial. If the 
Apostle could say: I "now rejoice in my sufferings for 
you, and fill up those things that are wanting in the 
sufferings of Christ" (Coll. i. 24), how much rather 
would Mary, the queen of the Apostles, say to us : I feel 
deeply honored by my share in the work of your redemp- 
tion. 

Who, after Jesus Himself, knew as well as she did 
what it meant to redeem the whole race of Adam, she 
the second Eve, living always in the company of the 
second Adam? During the entire life of Jesus, His 
mother, in her intimate communion with Him, heart to 
heart, must have continually heard from Him the full 
wickedness of sin, and he must have perfectly revealed to 
her the bitterness of soul, the torture of body, which He 
was to suffer for its atonement. Yet when the fateful 
day at last arrived, although she was perfectly prepared 
for all the trials of the passion, her mother's heart was 
wrung with unspeakable grief, of sympathy for her Son's 
fate. 

After parting from Jesus, Mary resumed her usual 
place with the company of holy women. They had pro- 
vided some obscure and safe shelter in the city, not far, 



282 The Seven Last Words. 

we must suppose, from the scenes of her Son's passion. 
And He, during it all, how often must He not have 
thought of her, the one only mortal who knew Him per- 
fectly, who loved Him as He deserved. He could scarce- 
ly have been quite unmindful of her for a single moment. 
It was a solace to His pains and yet an added bitterness, 
to know that she was with Him in spirit through it all, 
her soul quite melted with sympathy. How fervently she 
must have prayed, though hers was the prayer of a mind 
darkened, we judge, with the same desolation as His own, 
because she must have partaken fully of His interior 
trials. The outward penalties paid for our ransom she 
was exempted from; the interior atonement she could 
and did claim a full share of. What she could suffer she 
would suffer. Anguish of heart was as near as possible 
identical in mother and Son — Mother of Sorrows is her 
dearest title, as Alan of Sorrows is His. 

How weary to her were the watches of that Thurs- 
day night. There was no lack of news of what was 
happening every hour of that dreadful time, and during 
the forenoon of Friday. How awful her interest in the 
different events, as accounts of each were brought to her 
by faithful messengers — the treason of Judas and the 
part he played at the arrest, the trials before the chief 
priests, the brief words of her Son's defence, the denials 
of Peter and then his conversion, the condemnation, the 
spittings and blows and mockings — it seemed to her that 
it all was done to herself no less than to her Son. 

On Good Friday, at dawn of day, she must have left 
her humble asylum; it would have been impossible, it 
seems to us, for the mother of Jesus to remain indoors 
that morning. With a group of her Galilean sisters and 



The Third Word. 283 

neighbors, guided doubtless by St. John, she mingled 
cautiously with the stream of people going to Pilate's 
palace. Then her heart grew doubly heavy; who could 
tell what moment He would be put to death ! 

Many a word she heard on the streets that cut deep 
into her mother's heart, and soon after she heard the very 
shouts of the mob that filled Pilate's outer court. How 
slow the minutes of those fatal hours dragged on, yet all 
too swift for her, who would have stretched the seconds 
into years to postpone His dreaded doom. There was an 
interval of quiet while the frenzied mob went with Jesus 
when He was sent to King Herod — the stillness about 
the Roman court only drives her thoughts deeper into 
the dark repository of her secret. And then she may 
have got a glimpse of His figure clad in a fool's white 
robe on His return from Herod. 

Her friends are back and forth, and tell her all they 
hear — the charges of sedition, sacrilege, blasphemy, im- 
posture ; they say that they hope something from Pilate's 
hard fight for Jesus ; but this only deepens her despond- 
ency. They relate the awful alternative, Barabbas or 
Jesus, which the Roman judge offers the Jews. And, as 
they are telling her, she hears the roar of the Jewish 
voices choosing Barabbas rather than her Son. Then 
comes news of the scourging, the crowning, the Ecce 
Homo. At last the shouts are thickened ; it is a veritable 
shriek that proclaims : "No King but Caesar !" and "Cru- 
cify Him! Crucify Him!" — my Jesus is condemned and 
sentenced at last. 

Come, come! Oh, let us try to meet Him and con- 
sole Him on the Way of the Cross. And so, by hurriedly 
making a circuit through adjacent streets, it may be sup- 



284 The Seven Last Words. 

posed that she and her little band were enabled to join 
the larger company of the women of Jerusalem. For, 
as many think, Mary was with them, and thus saw Jesus 
on the way to Calvary. To see these women weep for 
her Son was a comfort to her, though their sorrow com- 
pared to hers was like a rippling brook to the ocean. 
Their words of sympathy were also exceedingly sweet to 
her, though the unspoken answer of her heart would be : 
"Labor not to comfort me for the devastation of my peo- 
ple" (Isaias xxii. 4) and for the immolation of my Son. 
Soon she saw Him. First came a noisy rush of peo- 
ple running along, stopping, and looking back. Then the 
leading files of soldiers, using their spears to clear a pass- 
age, roughly enough ; other soldiers followed to keep the 
way open; everybody wanted to see the greatest male- 
factor in the whole world going out to be killed. And then 
she saw the two "other malefactors'' coming along, one 
after the other, brazen, cursing, defiant, exchanging in- 
sults with the baser sort of men in the crowd. Presently 
she caught sight of her Son, following on in the dreadful 
place of honor — the dear and beloved Son of her heart 
of hearts — with His crown of thorns, his face stained 
with blood and spittle and miserably swollen and dis- 
figured. Everybody had known and heard Jesus, and 
anyway His placard would reveal Him, but His mother 
would be the first to recognize Him: "My beloved is 
chosen among thousands" (Cant. v. 10). There He is, 
bending wearily under that immense load, Simon behind 
Him and helping Him to carry it. Jesus looks towards 
her, and their eyes meet. As He sees her He stops. His 
glance is full of love, and, though He is plainly very 
weak, and grief showing forth in every feature, He is 



The Third Word. 285 

yet patient and courageous. Between Him and her no 
words are recorded here, but many messages passed from 
heart to heart by their looks. She must have thought: 
O if they would let me go to Him! She would have 
snatched that hideous crown from his head, cleansed and 
kissed His wounds, knelt down and adored Him, taken 
Him away and nursed Him. Yet, no; these motherly 
instincts are quickly superseded by her union of purpose 
with His own. He must die for the world's redemption. 
But He was allowed no long delay, and soon He has 
given the women of Jerusalem His affectionate warn- 
ings ; the officer loudly calls the command to go forward, 
Jesus resumes His cross, and presently she can see Him 
no longer. The women are now rudely shouldered aside 
by the crowd, and Mary's next place of meeting with her 
Son is on Calvary, 



Chapter VI. 
The Third Word {continued). Mary on Calvary. 

Now there stood by the cross of Jesus, His mother (John xix. 
25). 

What man so unfortunate as to die among enemies 
and upon a gibbet, would desire to have his own mother 
present at his death ? Yet Jesus did so. "Her eyes bleed 
tears, His wounds weep blood/' says Richard Crashaw. 
And Jesus would have her tears and His blood mingled 
together for our sakes. His the cross, hers the sword; 
one endures a bodily crucifixion, the other a mental. 
Jesus willed that of all who glory in the cross, not one 
should claim such glory as the mother of the crucified. 

We cannot be certain that Mary was present during 
the stripping and nailing of Jesus, though we may be 
sure that she urged her gentle escort, John, to make his 
way towards Calvary with all speed. But, at any rate, 
everything that was done she knew full well; she was 
surely near enough to hear the loud, coarse words of the 
executioners, the sharp blows of their hammers ; and then 
the cross rose up to her weeping eyes, with her Son 
hanging upon it. By that time her little party had come 
closer to Jesus, and she took the place allotted her by 
Almighty God, awarded her by her divine Son. 

She then witnessed the insults of the enemies of Jesus 
as they triumphed over Him — she was close enough to 
see their scowling faces. She had seen Jesus adored by 
the seraphs of heaven, and by the sages of distant peo- 



The Third Word. 287 

pies, and now sees Him blasphemed by the priests of 
God's temple, leaders of the basest rabble. 

We know not whether it increased or lessened His 
pain to see His mother there ; perhaps one and the other 
by turns. It was a comfort to know that the only entirely 
sinless being of His race was with Him to share His fate. 
And yet it was a grief to know that every pain of His 
was a pain of hers, and a pain like His in its intensity. 
This most affectionate of sons is most thoughtful of His 
mother's happiness; and He knows her heart is broken. 
Was ever a mother, He asks Himself, so afflicted as My 
mother ? Yet let her stand and suffer with Me for men's 
salvation. 

What a lesson is this to us. What a miracle of mutual 
love is this, expressed in the extremest suffering ever 
known? And all their love for each other is only the 
highest kind of love for us, even for the most undeserv- 
ing of us. Fully to appreciate the relation of Jesus and 
Mary on Calvary, is to give to the most innocent joys of 
life a plaintive cast, which in turn elevates and sanctifies 
them. 

Thus Mary's presence soothed Jesus, even though her 
sufferings added to His own. He well knew her intense- 
ly sympathetic nature, as became the mother of the 
world's Redeemer; and He would enlist her in His work 
of saving us, by taxing her sympathies to the utmost. 
This is why He must have her present at His death. He 
could bid His Apostles seek safety in flight. He could 
not dismiss His mother ; it is her sacred right to share all 
her Son's fortunes, good and ill, but especially His cruci- 
fixion, because she is (if such a thing were possible) a 
worthy associate of His atonement. She is the rightful 



288 The Seven Last Words. 

Queen of Martyrs and entitled to her place beside their 
King, the highest and holiest place among all the re- 
deemed. 

Mary's sense of being a redeemed soul was perfect. 
She felt herself saved by her Son's redeeming love, 
though in her case, and hers alone, that atonement took 
the form of a grace anticipating and preventing every 
stain of even Adam's sin; for if she was conceived im- 
maculate it was because she was conceived a redeemed 
soul. She knew that every grace she had, she owed to 
the foreseen merits of Jesus in this very act of dying on 
the cross. Her right to be here is a royal one, as she is 
the King's mother; but her presence is also an act of 
duty; and also one of gratitude for the highest favors 
ever received by a creature. And how great is our boast ! 
Here is the foremost of God's redeemed, and one of our 
own human race, purely and exclusively human in her 
nature, whose highest prerogative, whose most cherished 
privilege, is to be immolated with our Savior for His own 
precise purpose of saving us from sin and hell. 

Tearful she must indeed have been. But firm she 
stood, equal to her task, erect and steady in her place, 
the holiest place mortal ever held by right divine. 

"Love is strong as death" (Cant. viii. 6), says the 
Holy Spirit ; and one of the Greek fathers says of Mary 
on Calvary : "Her love was stronger than death, because 
she made the death of Christ her own." With all her 
anguish she had the grace to sincerely rejoice that her 
Son was doomed to die for the salvation of the world. 

And yet, how deep a grief would surge into her soul 
even while this heroic contentment possessed it, since 
she had so deep a heart for sympathy and its lowest 



The Third Word. 289 

depths were stirred by her own Son's crucifixion before 
her very eyes. St. Athanasius thus pictures her : "Mary 
stood most firmly and most patiently in her faith in Jesus. 
For when the disciples fled, and all men stood aloof from 
Him, to the glory of the whole sex, amidst the countless 
sufferings of her Son, she alone remained firm and con- 
stant in her faith. She was, indeed, a beautious sight, 
adorned with her virgin modesty, for her great and bitter 
sorrow did not disfigure her. She reviled not, she mur- 
mured not, she asked not from God to be avenged of her 
enemies. But she stood as a perfectly self-restrained, 
modest virgin, and most patiently, though full of tears, 
drowned in grief." 

Abraham was given grace to offer up his son Isaac, 
who was a type of the Redeemer. And Mary, was not 
she the mother of the Redeemer Himself? What must 
have been her graces in offering up Jesus to the eternal 
Father for the sins of mankind ? 

Jesus had three comforts on Calvary. One was the 
saving of the penitent thief, the other was the precious 
boon of praying for the pardon of His enemies in the 
very frenzy of their rage, smothering with His prayers 
the flames of their hate as it burst from their hearts in 
blasphemies and curses. O welcome privilege to a for- 
giving spirit. The third solace was the company of His 
mother, the only mortal being who could appreciate right- 
ly all His acts and His words and His torments, and 
read even His very thoughts of atoning love for His 
fallen race. 

Once He had almost resented His mother's message 
asking to speak with Him, when He was absorbed in 
teaching the multitudes : "Who is My mother and My 



290 The Seven Last Words. 

brethren ?" He exclaimed; "and looking around upon 
them that sat about Him, He saith: behold My mother 
and My brethren" (Mark iii. 33, 34). Many a long day 
she had waited for Him as He labored at the instruction 
of the people. Now all that part of His task is done, and 
the task of dying for the people begins. In the supreme 
agony of His love, O how welcome is His mother's form 
and face as He sees her approaching, and how sweet to 
His ear her tender tones of consolation. When in full 
career as the teacher of mankind her company was a 
luxury He would not enjoy, except rarely. Now it is 
a necessity to Him, for He is abandoned by men and for- 
saken by His Father. 

Who is My mother? The Mother of Sorrows is My 
mother, and the Mother of Mercies. She is My best 
comforter, better far than the angel in the Garden who 
brought Me but a drop of heavenly balm. For who is 
My mother? The Queen of Angels is My mother, over- 
flowing with a sympathy more than heavenly. She ajone 
knows all, and she alone with Me has ventured all, that 
men may be saved. Make way for My mother, that 
she may have her heart pierced for My sake and the 
sake of men's salvation; this is My best consolation. 
Make way for My mother, for I will give her to My 
disciple and to all of My brethren as their mother forever. 

It is a very general belief that Mary, by some miracle 
of love, is present at the deathbed of every friend of 
Christ, Oh may God make this true of the poor sinner 
who writes these words, and of every one who reads 
them. 



Chapter VII. 
Third Word (concluded). The Adoption of St. John. 

When Jesus, therefore, had seen His mother and the disciple 
standing whom He loved, He saith to His mother: Woman, be- 
hold thy son. After that, He saith to the disciple: Behold thy 
mother. And from that hour, the disciple took her to his own 
(John xix. 26, 27). 

Had Jesus arranged this adoption with Mary before- 
hand ? We have every reason to think so. At the part- 
ing interview between these two beings, who had for so 
many years lived a life all their own, they had agreed 
to extend its privileges to us in the person of the dis- 
ciple whom Jesus loved. Through the Apostle John all 
the members of the Apostolic Church are introduced in- 
to Mary's life, that "garden enclosed" (Cant. iv. 12) of 
every celestial joy. And this gift of Jesus to us was a 
wonderful event, even amid the marvels of that day and 
place. 

In Jesus' address to Mary from the cross, the word 
"woman" sounds peremptory and almost rude, "Dost 
thou so address Thy most sweet mother," asks St. Chry- 
sostom, in his comment on this scene, "who so carefully 
fed Thee, reverently handled Thee, and sweetly suckled 
Thee? But He so spoke to her because it was not then 
a time for speaking gently to her nor uttering the name 
of mother, lest by speaking sweetly to her the heart of 
the Blessed Virgin would have broken; the tenderness 



292 The Seven Last Words. 

of the maternal name might have overwhelmed her 
mother's heart." 

When Jesus said : "Behold thy son/' one might have 
thought that He meant, Behold Me ! Behold thy Son, 
Jesus, crucified ; look at Me nailed to this cross, Me whom 
thou hast ever loved so well. Thou rememberest at Beth- 
lehem how My first infantile glance said to thee : Behold 
thy Son — thou wert the first to look upon Me. I wish 
thy loving looks and words, which were ever My dear- 
est joy, to comfort Me now in My last moments. Behold 
thy Son! But no; such is not His meaning. Jesus is 
not thinking of Himself, but of us, as He says to Mary : 
Behold thy son. 

"How wonderful!" exclaims one of the early com- 
mentators. "How doth He honor His disciple in making 
him His brother. How good it is to stand by the cross, 
and to abide close to Christ in His sufferings !" 

No word of response from either Mary or John is re- 
corded. Doubtless the heart of John beat with a new 
grace of love, and Mary opened wide the door of her 
sacred affections to welcome her newborn child, thus 
given to her on Calvary; and the tears of these two vir- 
gins flowed more sweetly together — and again more bit- 
terly, after the act of the adoption. Words, forsooth; 
what words could John, or even Mary find which would 
be worthy of giving to Jesus, to pay Him for these mar- 
velous words of love. 

"Behold thy mother," said the Master to His favorite 
disciple. All that it has meant to Me to be her .Son 
now 7 becomes thy privilege; all that she was to Me she 
is to be to thee. In persecution betake thyself to her, 
and in every disappointment and affliction. In doubt she 



The Third Word. 293 

will be to thee a chair of wisdom. I ever found her the 
best of mothers ; so shalt thou. 

Thus did Christ, who had the evening before given 
us Himself as our heritage in His sacrament of "the New 
Testament" (Luke xxii. 20), now execute a codicil to 
that His last will and testament, bequeathing us like- 
wise His own mother to be and remain ours forever. 
Thus, too, John is the fitting executor for this our heri- 
tage, he being the Eucharistic disciple ; and he is also our 
proxy in the custody of Mary and the enjoyment of her 
motherly favor. This instrument of adoption Jesus signs 
with His blood. 

How often in after years Mary and John must have 
recalled this strange message, binding the mother of 
the only-begotten to a newly granted son, given on Cal- 
vary by the beloved Master of the one and the divine Son 
of the other ; and, lo ! while He makes the generous gift 
He is gradually passing away. 

"The Blessed Virgin/' says Hugh of St. Victor, "was 
given as a mother not only to John, but to the whole 
Church; and to all sinners was she assigned as a mother 
by those words : Behold thy mother. O words of com- 
fort : Behold thy mother. For she is the mother of God 
and of man, the mother of the criminal and of the judge. 
It is not fitting that discord should be allowed to reign 
among sons. For if, O sinner, Mary is thy mother, then 
Jesus is thy brother, and His Father is thy Father, and 
His kingdom thine inheritance ; then the grace of Mary, 
which she found with God, is thy treasure. Therefore, 
love and venerate her as if everywhere with thee, and 
from this hour take her to thine own, so that she may at 
last receive thee into glory." 



294 The Seven Last Words. 

John "took her to his own"; his home, his own per- 
sonal care, and all those affectionate attentions which 
would make her happy. And he received the singular 
grace to be entirely at home in Mary's company, rever- 
ent, indeed, beyond expression, but with no mixture of 
fear; their life reproducing as nearly as possible the 
peace and sanctity of the holy family at Nazareth. Nor 
is any one of us debarred that same favor, for no trait 
of a devout Christian life is plainer than the fearless and 
familiar affection we bear to the mother of Jesus. 

Mary, on her part, felt greatly honored by this sacred 
ceremony of our adoption. It made her more than evef 
a sharer in her Son's prerogatives — He is pastor and Re- 
deemer and teacher and pattern of us, and she is now 
proclaimed and instituted our mother. Her heart thank- 
ed Him tenderly for His thoughtfulness of her wishes, 
amid such pain of body and anguish of mind, thinking 
of what she desired most of all — to have the fullest pos- 
sible share a mere mortal could have in procuring the 
eternal salvation of men's souls. The dignity of a mother 
is best shown by her love for her children, Mary's love 
for her divine Son is now so extended that it fills even 
her capacity for loving — she is to love as a mother every 
one whom her Son loves as a brother and Redeemer. 
His characteristic trait is love for sinners, and hers is 
made the same. 

All this modifies our feeling that the exchange of 
Jesus, the Son of God, for John, the son of Zebedee, 
was to Mary poor exchange indeed. It was not ex- 
change but extension of sonship and motherhood. Jesus 
is all the more dearly Mary's Son because we have been 
made more closely His brethren. 



The Third Word. 29$ 

And, too, John was shortly to become a most lovable 
son, one of the masterpieces of the grace of Christ. After 
the coming of the Holy Ghost, Mary could watch with 
motherly interest the workings of the divine spirit in that 
soul, and assist the disciple in his spiritual growth as no 
other mortal could, for she is a powerful queen in the 
realm of Christian virtue. 

And especially in that of chastity. In giving the vir- 
gin Apostle to His virgin mother, Jesus paid high praise 
to chastity. It is a virtue hard to practice. Yet it is con- 
spicuously and triumphantly an adornment of His fol- 
lowers. He has made it a special requisite for the men 
who govern His Church; He has committed the care of 
His best loved, the outcasts and destitute, to a vast army 
of virgin women; He has chastened with this virtue the 
state of Christian matrimony itself, removing far from 
it the defilements of sensuality. 

Besides chastity Christ honored by this double gift 
of motherhood and sonship the virtue of filial affection. 
"Honor thy father and mother," he had commanded of 
yore, "that thy days may be long in the land that I shall 
give thee" (Exodus xx. 12}. And so John, honoring 
his mother Mary, outlived all the other Apostles many 
years in the Church of Christ. This was to reward his 
affectionate care of her, his solicitude for her comfort, 
and his offices of religion and his tears of sorrow at her 
happy death. 

We must not forget the Magdalen, who was chosen 
by our mother to be her close companion that day. Jesus 
had said : "When I shall be lifted up above the earth, I 
shall draw all things unto me" (John xii. 32), even the 
most opposite. For what could be more opposite than 



296 The Seven Last Words. 

Mary of Nazareth and Mary of the seven devils ? There 
stood they together, united most affectionately and most 
appropriately. For the same love of Jesus which had 
preserved His mother immaculate from the first instant 
of her creation, had saved and perfectly cleansed the 
harlot's soul by the grace of sincere contrition after a 
career of degrading vice. And now both Jesus and Mary 
would have Magdalen present on Calvary; her tears of 
penance had won for her that privilege. Is not this a 
great consolation for us poor penitents ? 



Chapter VIIL 
The Fourth Word: "Why Hast Thou Forsaken Me?" 

And it was almost the sixth hour; and when the sixth hour 
was come, there was darkness over the whole earth until the 
ninth hour; and the sun was darkened. And at the ninth hour 
Jesus cried out with a loud voice, saying : Eloi ! Eloi ! lamma 
sabacthani? Which is, being interpreted: My God! My God! 
why hast Thou forsaken Me? And some of the standers by 
hearing, said: Behold, this Man calleth Elias (Matt, xxvii. 45-47; 
Mark xv. .34, 35; Luke xxiii. 44, 45). 

The portents in the sun and sky began soon after 
Jesus was lifted into the air, just at the hour of noon. 
The darkening sun, as if affronted by the crime now be- 
ing perpetrated, admonished mankind of God's wrath. 
And this darkness in the air was also a sign of the gloom 
Jesus felt in His inmost soul. Ever since entering the 
Garden of Olives that soul had been groping in darkness, 
sadly feeling its way by the slender thread of divine hope 
— slender even if sure ; abandoned to evil men and their 
passions, helpless and alone. 

It is true that when the air thickened with darkness, 
this afforded our Redeemer some relief, because it partly 
veiled from the vulgar gaze His naked form. But the 
outer gloom drove Him deeper into His inner desola- 
tion. He lost something He valued when He could no 
longer see the sun ; the bright sky had been a comfort to 
Him. Light and hope go together. It would seem as if 



298 The Seven Last Words. 

nothing were now left to console Him except the pres- 
ence of His beloved mother and His ever-cherished power 
of pardoning His enemies. It was hard that the bright- 
ness of His native skies was denied Him at the last. God 
seemed yet more distant from His bereaved spirit when 
the glory of the heavens was smirched with darksome 
gloom. 

Yet He knew that the primary cause of the portent 
was to impress men's souls with fear, and lay a weight 
of foreboding on them, and thereby prepare them to con- 
fess at His death that He was indeed the Son of God. 
So that Jesus, who so greatly loved the light of day, was 
content to be shadowed with outer as well as inner dark- 
ness for the conversion of His persecutors. 

Up to this point in His passion Jesus had plainly 
possessed a constant evenness of mind, at least after He 
had said : "Rise up, let us go," and had delivered Himself 
to Judas and his band. But now a despondency fell upon 
His spirit so dark that He began to complain — directing 
his voice, alas ! towards the closed and darkened heavens. 
"Eloi! Eloi! lamma sabachthani. My God! My God! 
Why hast Thou forsaken Me?" This exclamation puz- 
zled the enemies of Jesus, and some of them said that 
He was calling upon Elias, mistaking Eloi for the proph- 
et's name. Perhaps they only heard Him indistinctly; 
His voice may have been broken by sobs. Or, as St. 
Jerome surmises, it was some of the Roman soldiers who 
said this, imperfectly understanding our Redeemer's 
language, though knowing something of Elias from their 
acquaintance with the Jews. 

We well know this prayer; it is the first words of the 
twenty-first Psalm. For Jesus herein acted as we do in 



The Fourth Word. 299 

time of trial ; as we take refuge in the familiar words of 
an Our Father or Hail Mary, so did Jesus, Hebrew as 
He was, call out to His Father in the familiar words of 
the Psalms, which were His usual and daily prayer. 

He now chose a Psalm, the twenty-first, specially in- 
spired for His passion and for this very hour of His 
dereliction. "O God, My God, look upon Me; why hast 
Thou forsaken Me ? Far from My salvation are the words 
of My sins. ,, Our sins were His shame; His soul re- 
sounded with their outcry of hate, almost deafening the 
voices of hope within Him. For the restoration of this 
comfort, for a return of the sense of hope, He implores 
His Father, reminding Him of His mercies of old : "In 
Thee have our fathers hoped ; they have hoped and Thou 
hast delivered them. They cried to Thee and they were 
saved." Thus does Jesus compare himself with the men 
of old, the prophets and saints, who foretold Him and 
prepared the Israelites for His coming; He complains 
that they were heard when they prayed and He is not. 
"They trusted in Thee and were not confounded. But I 
am a worm and no man; the reproach of men, and the 
outcast of the people. All they that saw Me have laugh- 
ed Me to scorn. They have spoken with the lips and 
wagged the head. He hoped in the Lord, let Him deliver 
Him; let Him save Him, seeing He delighteth in Him. 
O depart not from Me ! For tribulation is very near ; for 
there is none to help Me. I am poured out like water; 
and all My bones are scattered. My heart has become 
like wax melting in the midst of My bowels. My strength 
is dried up like a potsherd, and My tongue hath cleaved 
to My jaws." And then, inasmuch as all His sufferings 
were a sin offering, Jesus would lay all His woes to the 



300 The Seven Last Words. 

terrible justice of the Father. 'Thou hast brought Me 
down into the dust of death. For many dogs have encom- 
passed Me; the council of the malignant hath besieged 
Me. They have dug My hands and feet. They have 
numbered all My bones. And they have looked and stared 
upon Me. They parted My garments amongst them; 
and upon My vesture they cast lots." Further on in His 
prayer, this wonderful psalm would lead Jesus, in words 
at least, and with however little of sensible feeling, to a 
return of hope ; else would He not have chosen it. "He 
hath not slighted nor despised the poor man. Neither 
hath He turned away His face from Me; and when I 
cried to Him, He heard me." 

Thus prayed our Redeemer for us in His desolation 
of spirit ; and it was, perhaps, the most efficacious of all 
His petitions in our behalf. For although spoken for 
Himself, it was all meant for us. From the beginning 
to the end of His passion, He was ever interiorly treating 
with His Father about our eternal destiny, ever occupied 
with our spiritual needs, our obligations, our disobedience, 
our reconciliation. And as the Son pleaded for us, His 
brethren, the Father ever insisted on His suffering the 
uttermost rigor of justice as a condition of our pardon. 
This sank the soul of Jesus deeper and deeper into the 
gloom of hell, and wrung from Him — even from Him, 
the very pattern of fortitude — this cry of interior anguish. 
It was uttered with a loud voice, at least the first verses 
of the Psalm, the whole of which, we doubt not, He re- 
cited in His secret soul. 

"Jesus cried out with a loud voice," says the evange- 
list. Before this, namely, at His arrest, when He com- 
plained to Judas of his treachery, His tones, if very press- 



The Fourth Word. 301 

ing were yet calm ; and also when He protested to the man 
who struck Him in Caiaphas' court; and yet again in 
His protest to Pilate. But now that He is complaining to 
God He would rend the very sky with His voice. 

During His whole life His Father was ever with Jesus 
sensibly; He always felt His divine love within and His 
mighty hand without. He had but to will it, and the sea 
grew firm beneath His feet, the ruthless storm was still- 
ed, cripples walked and leaped at His word, death itself 
gave up its grim sceptre at His command. And now His 
Father seems to Jesus to be vanished from Flis life, He 
is as helpless as a soul condemned at the judgment; and 
just herein is the explanation of how much Jesus suffers 
for that soul. 

Once His Father sent Him angels ; even in the Garden 
an angel came from heaven and comforted Him; the 
Father has now shut them off in this His Son's extremity 
of need. Instead of angels there are devils, and there are 
men who are worse. The demons are circling about Him 
in the air, and men are on the ground, all railing at Him 
as He is nailed helpless to the cross. The Holy Spirit, 
with whom He is one in essential being, that spirit named 
by Jesus Himself "the Comforter" (John xiv. 16), is 
seemingly absent and silent to His desolate soul. 

A father is by right divine, aye and plight divine, the 
refuge of an afflicted child. Not so now as between God 
the Father and God the Son made Man; not any relief, 
not a whisper of encouragement from His Father in the 
gathering upon Jesus of the deep darkness of death. And 
such— let us always remember it — is the rightful penalty 
of our sins. 

Many a Christian actually smiles in the midst of 



302 The Seven Last Words. 

death's cruelest torments, consoled by the sacraments, the 
outward symbols and inward gift of God's love. Such 
was not the death of Jesus. The fright first felt in the 
Garden was yet upon Him, and grew more fearful and 
harder to bear as the end drew nigh. One thought seem- 
ed to possess Him: My Father is the avenger upon Me 
of the sins of My brethren; I am made responsible for 
their wickedness, loathsome to Myself in My every facul- 
ty. The arrogant, malignant rebellion of My own flesh 
and blood, My own brethren, against our common Father 
is My soul's burden, and mine exclusively. 

Oh, to us Good Friday is a day of uncounted mercies 
— both to the worst and the best of us. Let us often 
think how Jesus won these mercies that day, the only Man 
who felt the whole malice of sin because He atoned for it ; 
because He was the Man-God. He was, we know well, 
conscious of God's goodness and pardon, but only in the 
remotest and most unsensitive regions of his soul. 

To say that Jesus bled for us and died for us is, there- 
fore, not enough. He bled and died for us feeling Him- 
self to be our own sinful selves, suffering perfect retribu- 
tion for our sins; and with all willingness, too. For if 
Jesus protested to His Father, it was rather to witness 
to us the extent of His love for us than any urgent desire 
of relief. He was free to dispense with all or any part 
of this terrible trial of mind ; His Father and He, one in 
being, were one in purpose in the atonement. He could, 
with a single thought, open into His soul the flood gates 
of heavenly joy, sweep away all His enemies, and stand 
victorious among men and devils. He preferred what 
His Father willed — a victory of pain and dereliction and 
death to the less heroic conquest of superior force. May 



The Fourth Word. 303 

He and His Father and His Holy Spirit be forever 
blessed and thanked for this, and may we ever be given 
grace to imitate Jesus in this union of the incomparable 
majesty of God with the tenderness of perfect brotherly 
sympathy. How powerful an advocate is He to become 
for us, since He can forever call the Father to witness 
that for our sakes He endured all that man and all that 
God could do to punish our sins. 

Another lesson, one of much use to us, is this. In 
the article of death God is our only stay, for what human 
hand can either hinder death or banish its terrors? To 
Jesus, more than to any dying man before or since, God 
was the only reliance. And God had forsaken Him, He 
avows it to us, proclaims it to the world, loudly com- 
plains of it to His Fathei Himself : "Why hast Thou for- 
saken Me ?" And the answer is : That Thou shouldst 
become the refuge of all forsaken souls ever created. 
The desolation of Jesus is our safeguard against despair, 
even against despondency; "His tears are our hope," as 
we once heard a devout preacher exclaim, and His aban- 
donment earns our welcome by the Father. The fullness 
of this gift is not known to all ; or indeed to any one who 
has not suffered the feeling of being forsaken by His 
heavenly Father while knowing that he sincerely loves 
Him. Then it is that we thank Jesus for His desolation 
on the cross, as well as for the comfort of His example 
to justify our complaints to heaven. 

To love God disinterestedly, that is to say, to love Him 
and be haunted with the doubt that I shall never love 
Him hereafter, to love Him and trust Him in spite of a 
vivid sense that He does not love me and has cast me off 
forever, such is the state that finds relief in the cry of 



304 The Seven Last Words. 

Jesus : "My God ! My God ! why hast Thou forsaken 
Me?" 

And help is also found here to bear lesser evils; we 
may complain to God with filial confidence even when 
our cowardice repines against burdens imposed by His 
ordinary providence. For, as it was the human nature 
of Jesus that complained, so He would allow us to 
yield to human weakness by a prayer of affectionate pro- 
test. This, strange to say, wins the grace to understand 
the desolation of the cross, and, by the comparison, it 
shames us into a more courageous state of soul. 

Finally, let us realize how readily Jesus will give com- 
fort to the disconsolate, remembering as He does His 
own utter desolation of soul on Calvary. Afflicted hearts 
have a special claim upon Him. He is essentially the 
refuge of the forsaken, even those forsaken of God, as, 
for the moment, it seems to them. And I should 
know that when God seems to have abandoned me totally, 
He has then but placed me, as He did His Son, exclusively 
and especially under His protection. 

To be deemed worthy to suffer this dereliction of 
soul is the privilege of the more courageous followers of 
Jesus crucified. They appreciate that one is never so per- 
fectly in the hands of God as when God seems to have 
abandoned him totally to the will of his enemies, whether 
men or demons. For it is only then that God is adored 
and loved for His own sake alone, every present conso- 
lation given up, and every future compensation left blind- 
ly to His good pleasure. 



Chapter IX. 
The Fifth Word: "I Thirst I" 

Afterwards Jesus, knowing that all things were now accom- 
plished, that the scripture might be fulfilled, said : I thirst. Now 
there was a vessel set there full of vinegar; and immediately one 
of them, running, took a sponge, and filled it with vinegar about 
hyssop, and putting it upon a reed, put it to His mouth, and gave 
Him to drink. Others said: Let be, let us see whether Elias 
will come to deliver Him. Jesus, therefore, when He had taken 
the vinegar, said: It is consummated (Matt, xxvii, 48, 49; Mark 
xv, 36; John xix, 28-30). 

When Jesus was very near death He made two com- 
plaints. One was to His Father: "Why hast Thou for- 
saken Me ?" The other is to us : "I thirst !" And this 
last is the only complaint of bodily suffering that He 
made throughout His passion. 

To know what a dying man's thirst is, ask physicians, 
especially surgeons who have ministered to the wounded 
after a battle; the moisture of the body in a grievously 
wounded man is dried up in its very sources. Jesus was 
now suffering from His death wounds at the end of His 
battle for us ; and His extreme bodily weakness, together 
with His great loss of blood, caused Him a fiery thirst. 
This had tormented Him ever since His scourging, but 
He had borne it silently till now. This solitary complaint 
of corporal pain He will make one of His great Seven 
Words on the cross ; it will, at this supreme moment, fit- 
ly describe the passion of His life, His longing for God 



306 The Seven Last Words. 

His Father, as well as His desire to save us from eternal 
loss. Besides that, it will make very prominent the special 
bodily pain He suffers to atone for the sin of drunken- 
ness. 

To say that Jesus was very thirsty, but feebly tells 
His condition. The last drop He had drunk was at the 
sacred supper the evening before. It was then that He 
showed what he would do for our thirst of soul and body, 
for He gave us His very blood to drink ; and this day in 
heaven the remembrance of His thirst on the cross adds 
to His joy in bestowing a heavenly reward on a Christian 
who gives to a thirsty brother "a cup of cold water" 
(Mark ix. 40). 

"Knowing that all things were now accomplished, 
that the scripture might be fulfilled" — all things except 
His death, and death was at hand. But Jesus would not 
yet die. Death did not immediately receive His signal to 
approach and do its worst upon Him. He stood death 
off, and He added another drop of bitterness to His cup, 
and He added to His precious words on the cross another 
brief sentence. Jesus said : "I thirst !" 

A pot of vinegar had been placed there, but not for 
drinking, for who drinks vinegar? — but it was provided, 
together with a sponge and a twig of hyssop, to staunch 
the wounds of the malefactors, for these were always 
heavily scourged before execution. It was used to help 
keep alive the victims till they were crucified. Now, when 
Jesus cried out : "I thirst !" one of the guards, more cruel 
than the rest, instantly saw his opportunity to insult Him ; 
and he ran to this vessel of vinegar and quickly fixing the 
sponge and hyssop on the end of a reed, possibly a walk- 
ing stick offered by one of the Jewish elders, he filled the 



The Fifth Word. 307 

sponge with vinegar, raised it up and thrust it into the 
face and mouth of Jesus. "The others said : Let be, let us 
see whether Elias will come to help Him." This taunt, 
intended for Jesus' ears, added bitterness even to the 
vinegar. The bitter drink, thus spiced with hate yet 
more bitter, Jesus drank and sucked out of the sponge 
as best He could. 

Burning with thirst as He arrived at Calvary, Jesus, 
though He tasted, yet "would not drink" the wine offered 
Him before being nailed; thus saving His thirst that it 
might be all the more bitter after three hours of agony. 
And as He had then tasted the wine out of kindness 
towards those who offered it, yet no more than tasted it 
for the sake of enduring a greater suffering later on, so 
now He tasted the vinegar offered to Him ; nay, St. John 
says He drank it ; showing that He would, for our sakes, 
accept insult as readily as kindness, and even more readily. 

Less than a week before His crucifixion, and while 
prophesying about the day of judgment, He affirmed that 
the kingdom of His Father was granted to those who 
gave Him to drink when He was thirsty, that is to say, 
as He is among us in the person of the poor. And now 
we, standing with His executioners, give Jesus in His 
own proper person vinegar to drink when He calls out : 
"I thirst!" 

Drinking vinegar only made His thirst hotter than be- 
fore. But he drank something besides the vinegar — He 
drank most humbly and with His very soul the insults 
poured into His ears as the vinegar was rudely thrust 
into His mouth. Thus He knew that they would not only 
kill Him, but also force Him to drink vinegar at His last 
gasp; for they must have known that His death was at 



308 The Seven Last Words. 

hand; and, in fact, Jesus expired a few minutes after- 
wards. 

All this happened when Jesus felt that He had quite 
done His task and paid our ransom in full: "Know- 
ing now that all things were accomplished." 

This part of His atonement is, therefore, given us 
not only as food for sympathetic meditation, but for an- 
other reason also, and one equally characteristic of our 
Redeemer. Because His dying thirst is the pressing 
down and flowing over of the measure of merit He pour- 
ed into His Father's bosom for us. And He would here- 
by also give for our edification a literal fulfilment of an 
ancient prophesy : "And they gave Me gall for my food, 
and in My thirst they gave Me vinegar to drink'' (Ps. 
Ixviii. 22). He felt, too, as if He were drawing His 
enemies into closer reach of His grace. For if they them- 
selves had been literally turned into the food appropriate- 
ly representing their deeds, they would have been gall 
and vinegar; he longed to drink them into His very soul 
and there sweeten them with His love. 

The whole incident shows how jealously He was 
guarded, and how carefully His friends were held off 
from His aid. This was by an express permission of His 
Father's providence, for they were very capable of reliev- 
ing His pains, being, all but St. John, the devout women 
who had cared for His food and drink and shelter since 
His public ministry began ; and they were led by His own 
mother. But Jesus w T illed to die without their aid, and 
with the fire of His bodily thirst fiercely raging, and the 
added pain of the bitter taste of vinegar. His last taste 
of earth was vinegar. "Open thy mouth wide and I will 
fill it" (Ps. lxxx. 11), said God of old to Israel. And 



The Fifth Word. 309 

now mouth and heart and soul of Christ are opened wide 
in a burning thirst of love — and filled full with men's 
hate. We forced Him to drink hate, He constrains us 
to drink love. 

Besides our Redeemer's general purpose of suffering 
all possible pain for our salvation, He had a special aim 
in each particular affliction, according to its relation to 
some vice of ours. Thus, in accepting the kiss of Judas, 
He would atone for sacrilege ; flagellation of His body He 
offered for impurity; He endured the humiliation of the 
crown of thorns for our pride ; and He offered His death- 
thirst to His Father with a loud proclamation, to atone 
for one of our fearfulest vices, gluttonous drinking. If 
any word can arouse the dormant conscience of the drunk- 
ard and the convivialist it is this of Jesus crucified: "I 
thirst!" Says the prophet Joel: "Awake ye that are 
drunk and weep, and mourn all ye that take delight in 
drinking" (Joel i. 5). Awake, O drunkard, and hear 
that cry of thirst from your dying Redeemer, for to you 
it is chiefly addressed, and as He thirsts for your sake, 
so does that cruel soldier, in your stead, give Him vinegar 
to drink. Your intemperance is here singled out by Jesus 
for the reason of His only complaint of bodily suffering. 

And if I should say : I am no drunkard and therefore 
this lesson is not for me, the answer is that if Jesus atoned 
for the sin of drunkenness by suffering thirst, why then 
should not I do likewise for His sake and for the sake of 
that same class of sinners? Jesus distinguished them 
from among all who need redemption, singling out their 
disgusting excess for a special act of atonement. May I 
not imitate His example? Is there any vice more filthy? 
Is any vice more fruitful of other vices, or more preva- 



310 The Seven Last Words. 

lent among Christians? Is there any co-operation with 
the love of Jesus for sinners more likely to please Him 
than a pledge of total abstinence in union with His sacred 
thirst? Hence, Holy Church favors such a pledge, es- 
pecially during the season of Lent, when we more closely 
contemplate our Redeemer's passion and death; and she 
imparts generous indulgences to us when we sincerely 
say : "O Jesus ! In union with Thy sacred thirst on the 
cross, I promise to abstain from intoxicating drink. " Is 
not that an appropriate act for a Christian standing be- 
neath the cross ? Jesus has left me a divine formula for 
my total abstinence pledge, by which I voluntarily assume 
His thirst as my own, for the sake of drunkards and 
convivial drinkers. 

But Jesus had a thirst far other than the one which 
tormented His throat and burned His blood. Nor do 
we mean here His master-thirst, his longing for His 
Father — what man ever thirsted for God as did this 
Man? We mean His thirst for our souls; and that was 
destined to be an eternal thirst. His body was pres- 
ently beyond all thirst; but as the risen Jesus reigns this 
day in Heaven, He yet thirsts for our love. He was born 
with that yearning for our souls, lived and died and rose 
again with it and shall never be without it. And to His 
chosen ones He communicates it in ever-increasing ardor, 
till it is, as His was, a passionate desire to suffer and to 
die for men's salvation. His persecutors thirsted for His 
blood and He thirsted for their souls. What a thought 
is this, that Jesus, on the Cross, thirsted and was perish- 
ing of thirst for my soul. 

I think of the full meaning of that word : "I thirst I" 
issuing from the parched lips of our dying Savior. In 



The Fifth Word. 311 

His country, contiguous to vast arid wastes, thirst was 
a well-known plague of withering drouth upon fertile 
fields and of agonizing death to thousands of belated 
travelers. How vividly did it tell to the men of Palestine 
how much He suffered when they heard Him cry out: 

"i thirst r 

Thus His spirit longed for our love, and not even 
death has quenched that thirst, though His death cup was 
shortly to be placed at His lips and drained to the dregs. 
No words he ever uttered were truer of His state of mind 
about us than that wailing cry : "I thirst !" He longed for 
our salvation as a famishing man longs for a cold drink 
of water. A man perishing of thirst can do nothing but 
strive to find water, talks only of it ; his very dreams are 
about finding and drinking water. Such a spiritual thirst 
is the love of Jesus for immortal souls — ever thinking 
of winning souls to love Him, working miracles for 
that end, praying and preaching to save them; and now 
dying to save souls. Having had that thirst always, no 
wonder that He gives it expression at last on Calvary. 

We have said that the master-thirst of Jesus was 
longing for union with His Father. And this coincided 
perfectly with His desire for our salvation, which is but 
to give us a share of His own joy in His Father's 
heavenly home. The best trait of any man's life is long- 
ing for God. "Oh God ! My God ! to Thee do I watch at 
break of day, for Thee my soul hath thirsted; for Thee 
my flesh, oh, how many ways ! In a desert land, and 
where there is no way and no water ; so in the sanctuary 
have I come before Thee, to see Thy power and Thy 
glory" (Ps. lxii. 1-3). And what has my soul to do to 
be saved, but to desire God, to thirst for God? Which 



312 The Seven Last Words. 

means to long to be enlightened by infinite wisdom, em- 
braced by infinite love, enraptured by eternal joy. 
"Blessed are they that hunger and thirst after justice, for 
they shall be filled" (Matt. v. 6). 

Every soul thus thirsting is soon filled with God : "He 
that drinketh of the water that I shall give him, shall not 
thirst forever" (John iv. 13). And the first bestowal of 
the deity for the satisfaction of this divine thirst is in 
the Sacrament of Baptism, water and the Holy Ghost; 
and the fullness of God's gift of Himself is in eating and 
drinking the Eucharistic banquet, which "Shows forth 
the death of the Lord until He come" (I. Cor. xi. 26). 



Chapter X. 

The Sixth Word: "It Is Consummated/' 

Jesus, therefore, when He had taken the vinegar, said : It is 
consummated (John xix. 30). 

The vinegar was our Redeemer's last sorrow. His 
sorrows and ours had begun with the sweet but evil taste 
of the forbidden fruit in Eden; and all our woe is ended 
and our joys consummated by this bitter passion, typified 
by the draught of vinegar. He, therefore, publicly af- 
firms that He has done His Father's will for our salvation, 
has done it all, done it perfectly. He thus looks forward 
to His accounting. Great were His pains as He spoke; 
but in spite of them, it was with a certain satisfaction of 
mind that He exclaimed : "It is consummated." It only 
remained for Him to die. He is now but repeating what 
He had said to His Father while praying for his Church 
the night before : "I have finished the work which Thou 
gavest Me to do" (John xvii. 4). Then he referred es- 
pecially to the Eucharist, which is the perfection of the 
Father's love, and which He had just instituted; and the 
Eucharist is the memorial of the death He is now about 
to die. 

He had often suffered, by anticipation, all the pen- 
alties our sins merited, and especially so in the Garden of 
Olives ; He now recalls them to mind and sums them up. 
And as He considers them as almost over and done, a 
sense of profound relief is mingled with their parting 



314 The Seven Last Words. 

bitterness. Then, looking to His approaching death, he 
says to His Father : "All is finished." 

He also reckoned with His Father, by a final rehears- 
ing in his mind of the sacred prophecies about His atone- 
ment, and He says : All things are now accomplished 
that Thy scriptures may be fulfilled. And every inspira- 
tion of Thy Spirit to Me has been perfectly obeyed, even 
to exceed the stated measure of the ancient decrees 
against sin — all Thy will is now fulfilled. 

He had set out upon his passion, determined to finish 
completely His allotted task, saying: "All things shall 
be accomplished which were written by the prophets con- 
cerning the Son of Man" (Luke xviii. 31), and this He 
said with dauntless resolution. And now with nearly 
His latest breath He says: O My Father, all is accom- 
plished. It is the end at last — the darkest moment of these 
dark hours, the sharpest of all My pains, My death, is 
very near. It will, indeed, be a yet more affrighting reali- 
zation of the guilt of the race I love so well, and of the 
injury they have done to Thy Sovereign Majesty; but 
then My work will be done. From birth to death every 
task is done — except the very last pangs and the final exit 
of My soul from this poor body; My spirit, trembling 
upon the verge of death, now proclaims its mission fin- 
ished and over. My sacrifice of love is perfect — not one 
possible act of love for God or man has been omitted, nor 
is any quality of it lacking that could in the very least de- 
gree be further perfected. It is finished, I have given all; 
I have done all ! 

At this ending of His career as Redeemer of the 
world, Jesus recalls the beginning: "He shall save His 
people from their sins" (Matt. i. 21), was the divine 



The Sixth Word. 315 

decree. It is now that He makes final answer to love's 
question, a question incessantly ringing in His ears from 
the day He was conceived in His mother's womb : What 
hast Thou done for the salvation of My people ? I have 
done everything, "It is consummated." I have suffered 
for their sakes, O My Father, the loss of everything a 
man holds dear — honor, peace, friends, temporal and 
bodily welfare; I have this hour seen My own mother's 
soul pierced with a sword; I have accepted for Thy 
people's sake all that man hates or dreads : persecution, 
disgrace, horror of soul; I was for their sake handed 
over to the unchecked malice of My enemies and Thine ; 
and, having done all that even Thy strictest justice could 
demand in reparation for Thy people's rebellion, I have 
added yet more from My desire to overflow the measure 
of justice with the surplus of love. I am now on the point 
of expiring for them. Let divine love ask : What hast 
Thou done for the salvation of My people? I answer: 
I have accomplished their salvation. 

Such were the thoughts of our Redeemer as, with 
death knocking loudly at the door, He made a final rec- 
koning with His Father. This was His first duty, to be 
able to say : My Father's Will is done ; it is done, finished, 
consummated ; not one of His children and My brethren 
but is completely ransomed if he but will it. 

But this is not all; Jesus must reckon with us. The 
same accounting made to His Father He must make to 
us, for He is our representative. He says, therefore, to 
us, all and every one, that He has redeemed us. He tells 
us that He has offered for us to His Father a love entirely 
divine, yet owned and possessed by a heart entirely hu- 
man, entirely our own — a divine gift, yet owned and 



3i6 The Seven Last Words. 

offered by one of ourselves and wholly on our account. 
He has, He tells us, received from the Father the long list 
of our debts, and He has blotted them all out by His 
blood, affixing the handwriting of fate to His cross, and 
then reversing the sentence absolutely and finally (Coll. 
ii. 14). O joyful tidings! Jesus has saved us, He has 
accomplished our redemption from sin and hell ; He pro- 
claims it even now from the very spot on which it is 
consummated, at the very moment of the final payment 
of our ransom ; He proclaims it to God and man. 

He is our Redeemer because He completed His work. 
He never looked back, once He had put his hand to the 
plough. For our salvation every action of His whole 
life had been expressly motived ; and particularly during 
His passion had He fixed His soul's purpose upon us, 
one and all, not excluding the very worst. O sinners, 
you who spend the best and longest years of your lives in 
utter forgetfulness of your eternal welfare, you are at last 
saved, because Christ, the Son of God, never forgot you 
and your salvation a single hour of His whole life, at the 
very end of which He says to you : Your redemption is 
consummated. 

When shall I say the same words to Him ? It is con- 
summated. Lord, cause these, Thy words, to echo loudly 
in my heart, till they force me to some worthy return of 
Thy love. Let me begin now, so that at the end of life 
I may be ready to say to Thee : It is consummated, my 
task is done, Thy love has entirely conquered me. Thou 
didst give me Thy Godhead, I have given Thee my poor 
manhood, my mind with all its convictions, my heart with 
all its affections, my body with all its members and senses, 
my death with all its pains. 



The Sixth Word. 317 

It is in the Blessed Eucharist that our Savior leaves 
us His chosen memorial of His death, and all its lessons 
are best taught in that sacrament. His dearest love for 
us is there ever shown forth until He come again. The 
Eucharist is our daily reminder of His consummation, 
His Father's mercy proved, and, no less, His Father's 
justice vindicated at His Son's cost. While assisting at 
Holy Mass, and especially when communicating, we re- 
ceive from Jesus for our benefit what His Father received 
from Him for the satisfaction of the divine justice. Here 
is the summing up of all that our life means to Him, and 
all that He wills our death should be to Him. It is at the 
altar that we learn how to say truthfully to Jesus : It is 
finished; the work Thou gavest me to do is done. 



Chapter XI. 

The Seventh Word: "Father, Into Thy Hands I com- 
mend My Spirit" 

And Jesus again crying with a loud voice, said : Father, into 
Thy hands I commend My spirit (Matt, xxvii. 50; Mark xv. 37; 
Luke xxiii. 46). 

These words of our dying Savior are the sixth verse 
of the thirtieth Psalm, one of the most beautiful songs of 
hope the troubled spirit of man ever sung. Jesus, we 
may be sure, silently recited the preceding verses from the 
beginning, His purpose being to offer God, as His last 
praise of Him on earth, a salutation and a prayer of per- 
fect confidence. 

Jesus could but feebly murmur the earlier verses of the 
Psalm, His strength being almost gone. For be it re- 
membered that all of these words from the cross were 
spoken by Him while death was immanent. After the 
shock of the nailing and the first pangs of hanging from 
the nails, any moment, He knew quite well, might be His 
last. Every word He spoke was full of the earnestness 
of death. 

How very great, then, is the honor He does mercy and 
hope, since His dying messages — quite ignoring the jus- 
tice of God — are either an inspiration of hope to us or a 
dispensation of mercy from the Father. We can hereby 
easily see what kind of religious sentiments the heart of 
our dying Redeemer was full of. 



The Seventh Word. 319 

Yet justice was not absent from Calvary, resting, as it 
did, dark and stern upon Him, though upon Him alone. 
Never had He felt the weight of our sins so heavy, never 
so conscious that in our stead He was the malefactor of 
all ages. The intensity of His loathing for our wicked- 
ness was now far beyond any previous sensation of it; 
but in the conflict with His pity for us, every other senti- 
ment went down in utter defeat. 

There is high praise in all this for the divine virtue 
of hope. For think what a victim of sovereign justice 
Jesus was on Calvary. See the sufferings of His 
wounded body, nailed to the cross; hear the sadness in 
the tones of His voice; see the agony pictured in His 
face. And what is all this but a feeble show of the ter- 
rors and sorrows of His soul? Never had He felt such 
fullness of woe as at this last moment of His atonement, 
because He never had so fully appreciated the wrongs 
His Father had suffered from us. No one ever died with 
a thousandth part of the sadness of Jesus. It wrung 
from Him His loud cry : "My God ! My God ! why hast 
Thou forsaken Me ?" But this was soon followed by the 
w r ords : "Father, into Thy hands I commend My spirit/' 
the strong feeling of abandonment being immediately 
overtaken and overcome by the stronger feeling of con- 
fidence. Thus it was that at the moment when Jesus 
most vividly realized the enormity of our sins He felt 
most sure of His Father's pardon of them. 

Since Jesus cried out from the cross : "Father, into 
Thy hands I commend My spirit," despair is a rare and 
difficult sin. It would seem that to show a peculiar trait 
of His love for us He would make the bad end of Judas, 
if He could, the last act of despair ever to be committed. 



320 The Seven Last Words. 

We have supposed that He recited the first five verses 
of the Psalm in the feeble whisper of his fast ebbing 
powers. The words are worthy of his choice : "In Thee, 
O Lord, have I hoped, let me never be confounded; de- 
liver me in Thy justice. Bow down Thine ear to me; 
make haste to deliver me. Be Thou unto me a God, a 
protector, and a house of refuge to save me. For Thou 
art my strength and my refuge, and for Thy name's 
sake Thou wilt lead me and nourish me. Thou wilt bring 
me out of this snare^ which they have hidden for me ; for 
Thou art my protector." 

Thus far Jesus came when His forces began to fail 
Him, and He knew that the end was come. With a last 
effort, therefore, he rallied all his strength to recite aloud 
the sixth verse, His last words. He lifted His drooping 
head, directed His tearful eyes into the murky air above, 
and "crying with a loud voice, said : Father, into Thy 
hands I commend My spirit" — and in another moment 
He had passed away. 

It was the vehemence of His loving trust in His 
Father that thus overcame the peremptoriness of death 
itself. And notice, too, that he added to the words 
of the Psalmist that name Father, so often on His lips 
in life, as it was ever in His heart, and now so sweet to 
Him in death. Such was the prayer of Jesus, the last 
spasmodic effort of His once powerful physical nature 
acting in obedience to the ruling principle of His life. 

We must remember that ever since He entered the 
Garden of Olives, the interior life of Jesus was a con- 
tinual intensifying of His purpose to save sinners, by 
perfectly repenting for them, enduring every conceivable 
penalty for them, and, finally dying for them — all this 



The Seventh Word. 321 

while treating directly with His Father for their salva- 
tion. This is now ending. Therefore His soul absorbs 
our souls into itself more completely than ever before, 
for His final effort in our behalf. And this, His purpose 
to redeem us, is completely achieved by an act of trustful 
love of God, made both for Himself and for us; it is a 
conviction of God's goodness so certain, a feeling so 
secure, as rightly to be called the supreme act of our 
Savior's life, as it is the last: "P'ather, unto Thy hands 
I commend My spirit." Let us never forget that here He 
speaks for us as well as for Himself. St. Athanasius, 
therefore, says : "When Christ said on the cross, Father, 
into Thy hands I commend My spirit, He commends all 
men to the Father, to be by Him and through Him re- 
stored to life/' 

According to St. Paul, we are members of Christ's 
"body, of His flesh and of His bones" (Eph. v. 30), being 
made one body, indeed, with Him in our membership of 
His Church. Now this corporal and visible union is for 
the imparting to us of an interior union with His soul, in 
divine faith, hope and love. It is for this end that Jesus 
now, together with His own soul, breathes forth our 
souls into His Father's bosom, and He does so with a 
loud call of loving confidence. 

We should often think of this last prayer of Jesus, 
especially when we lie down to sleep and our souls escape 
from us into the death-like darkness of night. Hence 
Holy Church in Her office of complin, her last prayer 
before going to rest at night, causes us to recite this same 
Psalm that Jesus did, stopping at the place where death 
stopped Him: "Into Thy hands I commend My spirit." 
And, at the moment of death, many saints and many sin- 



322 The Seven Last Words. 

ners have used the same words, thereby joining their 
souls to Christ's soul as they passed from this world into 
the merciful Father's hands. 

Furthermore, what an example is this of how we are 
to receive crosses? From the little annoyances of daily 
life, as well as from the awful pangs of death, our refuge 
must be loving adoration of the Providence of God, sub- 
mission immediate and entire to the divine will, implicit 
confidence in God's goodness — no bitterness of spirit, no 
aversion to enemies, no envying of any fancied happier 
lot of others. One of our greatest drawbacks in the 
spiritual life is failing to understand how adorable are 
the divine permissions of affliction — no less so than God's 
positive providences of joyful events. 

Hope is the virtue here honored by Jesus, one often 
deficient in those who have even sincere faith and ardent 
charity. Some good souls are in the habit of expressing 
a doubt of their salvation — not because they are suffering 
from some special aridity of spirit and are not masters of 
their saddened feelings, but because they fancy such dif- 
fidence is real humility. Our Redeemer would reprove 
such a course. For the last word that Jesus spoke was 
one of hope. The closing lesson of our Master is con- 
fidence in God. All who know the shortcomings of de- 
vout souls, appreciate the need of this virtue for their 
progress in perfection. 

Our Redeemer would say of His final prayer: Al- 
though all My words are precious to thee, My last ones 
are more precious than any others, and now My very last 
lesson is this — confide in God's goodness; He was never 
known to reject one who called Him Father. And if 
thou thinkest thou hast nothing but sin to give Him, I as- 



The Seventh Word. 323 

sure thee thou art in error, thou hast thy soul, and that 
He values equal to My life, for I paid that price for it, 
I, His beloved Son and thy brother. Therefore, say to 
Him, with Me : "Father, into Thy hands I commend my 
spirit." 

Let every one of us learn this lesson well. God's 
hands are my treasury, both for giving out His graces 
and storing up my merits. From them I receive all my 
good, into them I pour all my joys and sorrows, my 
thoughts and affections, in the day of my repentance, and 
every other day, even to the last. And at the hour of my 
death I will give over to Him my soul with every con- 
fidence — into His hands and His heart, never known to 
reject a penitent sinner, I commend my spirit. 

Give me, O my Father, in exchange for my spirit, 
which I now offer Thee, the treasures of Thy Son's spirit, 
deep sorrow for my sins, tender sympathy for the fallen, 
gentle patience with my enemies. O God, let me see 
Thy hand in every happening of my life; and especially 
reveal Thy goodness to me when I am near to death. 
May I live and die guided by Thy hand. In adversity, 
may I kiss Thy hand that smites me ; and especially when, 
at the end, Thy hand deals me the hard stroke that places 
me wholly in Thy possession, may I have the grace to say, 
in all sincerity : "Father, into Thy hands I commend my 
spirit/' 



PART VII. 

The Death of Jesus and His Burial. 

Chapter I. 

"No Man Taketh My Life Away From Me/' 

No man taketh [My life] away from Me; but I lay it down 
of Myself, and I have power to lay it down; and I have power 
to take it up again (John x. 18). 

And Jesus again crying with a loud voice, said : Father, into 
Thy hands I commend My spirit. And saying this, and bowing 
His head, He gave up the ghost (Matt, xxvii. 50; Mark xv. 37; 
Luke xxiii. 46; John xix. 30). 

We are now to meditate on the death of Jesus. Be- 
fore doing so, it behooves us to enter reverently into the 
sanctuary of His thoughts, and to consider with what 
generosity He gave to His Father and bestowed on us 
His bodily life, after having suffered beforehand all that 
man's cruelty could inflict upon Him, all that God's 
justice could impose. Hereby we shall learn how Jesus 
in His death mingled obedience and liberty in a perfect 
oblation of love. 

Our meditation on the last words of Jesus, "Father, 
into Thy hands I commend My spirit/' has shown us the 
filial confidence of our Redeemer in His Father's mercy. 
It was His great act of hope. It was also an act of per- 
fect obedience. The supreme majesty pf His Father, 



"No Man Taketh My Life." 325 

outraged by sin, is appeased by this awful obedience of 
His Son, the rebellious sinner's own brother and proxy, 
obedient "unto death, even to the death of the cross" 
(Phil. ii. 8). 

During His whole life He had no other rule but His 
Father's will. So on the cross, He prayed, preached, 
and suffered under that divine guidance, prayed for 
His enemies, preached God's mercy to them and all 
mankind, suffered inconceivable pains ; and now suffers 
the extreme penalty of our sins — all because this was 
the will of His Father: "For as by the disobedience of 
one man, many were made sinners; so also by the obe- 
dience of One, many shall be made just" (Rom. v. 19). 
His thoughts at the very last are immovably fixed upon 
the divine good pleasure. He bows His head to that 
only guide of His existence, and expires. 

And this was a most willing obedience, for He laid 
His life down freely. For His Father guided Him with- 
out compelling Him, using the authority of a Father's 
love rather than the compulsion of a Master's rights. 
Hence Jesus, as we have seen, added to the Psalmist's 
utterance, "Into Thy hands I commend my spirit," the 
word Father, increasing thereby the dignity of His act 
of obedience by the infusion of filial love. The death 
of our Redeemer was the freest of all possible acts, 
though it was an act of conformity to another's will. 

Jesus would show, too, by the loudness of His voice 
as He proclaimed His obedience, that, however reduced 
He might be to a deathly extremity of weakness, He 
could yet command all His natural powers, if He so 
wished, for His Father's honor and our edification. 
Thus, says St. Augustine: "The spirit of the Mediator 



326 The Death of Jesus. 

left not His body against His will, but because of it, 
when He willed it and as He willed it; for man was 
blended into union with the Word of God." Hence He 
had said beforehand : "No man taketh away My life 
from Me, but I have power to lay down My life and I 
have power to take it up again" (John x. 18). That 
power has a clear voice, even in the very last gasp of 
death, to claim the right of Sonship with the most high 
God, and to utter a loud resounding word of hope to all 
His brethren. Hence the carefully chosen expressions 
in the sacred narrative describing His death: "He gave 
up the ghost," "He expired," that is, He breathed His 
last; rather than the words, He died. 

Jesus thus gave up His soul willingly. For He does 
hot say, Out of my body, O Father, dost Thou drag 
forth My spirit; but, into Thy hands I entrust and 
commend it, as the soul of Thy child, as free as I am 
obedient, and now dying in the stead of all Thy dis- 
obedient children freely enslaved to Thy enemies. 
Hence, we repeat, this cry of Jesus He made the loudest 
utterance He gave forth from the cross, though spoken 
at the moment of expiring. 

It is, therefore, to be noted that this word was Jesus' 
inner offering of His death, no less than His outer con- 
formity to God's will. He gives up His soul before the 
moment of actual separation has come. And this is the 
solemn act that saves us, namely, the intention Christ had 
in dying, free, entirely and supremely His own master, 
all the more perfectly so because choosing to do His 
Father's will. As if he said: Father, I give Thee My 
soul, and with it the souls of all mankind; My soul is 
My own to give, their souls I likewise own, because I 



"No Man Taketh My Lifer 327 

have bought them with a great price. My soul and their 
souls I commend to Thy iloving mercies. 

It was, again, by His own preference and of His own 
free choice, that He died by crucifixion, and was not 
otherwise put to death. He might have sunk into His 
mother's arms as He arrived at Calvary, and died in 
that holy embrace, breathing His last sigh resting upon 
the heart He loved best in the whole world. But He 
had rather die nailed to the arms of the cross, than 
folded in the arms of His mother, identified with sinners 
to the very end — a choice made wholly for our sakes, 
and one to which His mother as freely and for the same 
motives consented. 

Although His human nature was tortured till it sunk 
to the verge of death, and life could no longer naturally 
continue, yet His God-head was united with it, and 
could, if He so willed, have renewed His natural 
strength at any moment and to any degree. But He 
would ask of it no more than a momentary rally of His 
forces, to offer in a loud voice a plain evidence of His 
freedom. 

And, oh ! how willingly did He die, since death was 
the perfection of His love for us, esteemed by Him the 
highest of His privileges from the very beginning of His 
existence as a child of Adam. Thus, though death was 
hard to Jesus, and He felt all the shrinking any man 
could feel from that last and sharpest pang, yet "God 
commendeth His charity towards us; because when as 
yet we were sinners, according to the time, Christ died 
for us" (Rom. v. 8, 9) ; "because He loved us and de- 
livered Himself up for us" (Gal. ii. 20). Therein is our 
every hope. 



328 The Death of Jesus. 

Of all the acts of His life, Jesus loves His death best. 
Hence the evening before, in preparing His disciples for 
His crucifixion, He revealed to them that His death was 
to be more than an event, even the greatest, in His 
career; it was to be a perpetual institution, retained and 
renewed among them forever. Midway in His long and 
affectionate discourse he instituted the Blessed Euchar- 
ist, giving them and us His body and blood, and His 
soul and divinity as a perpetual sacrifice, identical with 
the offering of Calvary. Hence St. Paul: "As often as 
ye shall eat this bread and drink the chalice, you shall 
show the death of the Lord, until He come" (I. Cor. 
xi. 26). 

It was the will of Jesus as He died, that His whole 
religion should centre about the sacrifice of Calvary as 
commemorated and reproduced on our altars, and that 
all the virtue that went out from His cross at His death 
should be distributed in superabundance in every place 
and at every hour, by the sacrifice of the Mass. The 
very same love which atoned with all pain for our sins, 
now by the same act, perpetuated in all joy, makes that 
atonement effectual to each one of us and for all time. 
How much holier are Mass and communion to us when 
studied with "the mind of Christ" (I. Cor. ii. 16), the 
mind of Jesus expiring on Calvary. 



Chapter II. 
"And Bowing His Head, He Gave up the Ghost" 
And bowing His head, He gave up the ghost (John xix. 30). 

How very slow must have seemed the approach of 
death to our Lord on the cross. How often did He think 
the end was come, only to learn that His Father had yet 
something more to ask from Him for our sakes, — inspir- 
ing one more plea for mercy upon us ; or yet another act 
of loving submission to the divine will, so that paradise 
might be won more surely for penitent sinners; a yet 
stronger lesson of humility and patience might be taught 
to a world lost in self-indulgence and pride. 

The crucifixion was a long series of literally ex- 
cruciating bodily pains endured without intermission, re- 
laxation, or rest of any kind, with a mind a prey to shame, 
wholly uncomforted by any prospect of relief whatsoever. 
The sufferings of the crucifixion were relieved only by 
death. 

Jesus was in perfect possession of His faculties 
throughout those interminable three hours, as His oc- 
casional utterances plainly show; there was no oblivion 
from torment by swooning, nor any interval of stupefac- 
tion of mind. 

We may well agree with those who say that Jesus kept 
Himself alive on the cross by a miracle of fortitude. Con- 
sider all that had happened to Him of bodily torture since 
He sweat blood the night before, and the consequent 



330 The Death of Jesus. 

strain upon His nerves. The whole night long He was 
beaten and insulted in an incredibly painful manner — it is 
a wonder that he was alive at daybreak. From sunrise 
till noon He had been hounded by the chief priest and 
a riotous mob, scourged, crowned with thorns, and then 
wantonly and ferociously misused by Pilate's soldiers. 
At noon He was condemned to death, laden with His 
cross, and with every circumstance of shame led to exe- 
cution, then nailed to His cross and left hanging there 
in inconceivable agony. Yet only after three hours did 
death conquer His resolute resistance, His iron purpose 
to exhaust His every capacity for sorrow and pain. And 
when three o'clock came and death at last overwhelmed 
Jesus with its final onslaught, it was only because He 
willed it to be so. He had finished His work and was 
ready for His Father's reckoning. 

And so the end at last is come. He begins to feel 
His vital forces drawing away from Him; His heart 
rather flutters than beats, and His head sinks feebly down. 
Between his blue lips His breath is drawn in and given 
forth only with a terrible effort, and a cold sweat breaks 
out upon Him. There is no mistaking these signs, they 
are death's dread ensigns hoisted at last on the citadel of 
life. Jesus knows that His time is come; He has never 
felt such exhaustion of bodily powers, and, alas! never 
known so deep a sadness of spirit. 

We have seen what happened then — a last effort of 
our Redeemer's expiring heart. Slowly and by the final 
rally of His dying energies, His face is lifted upward and 
His fading eyes gaze into the darkened heavens; 
"Father," He cries with convulsive effort, "into Thy 
Tiands I commend My spirit." The words burst from a 



"He Gave up the Ghost." 331 

heart palpitating with the soul's imperative struggle to 
be free. 

With the very words came the throes of death, and 
they were the sharpest pains He ever felt ; and with them 
there settles on His spirit a gloom more oppressive than 
at any time before. With the last word He spoke, His 
breath faltered; an icy chill was felt in His limbs and 
began to creep toward His very heart, that devoted heart, 
which can no longer drive His stagnating blood upon its 
errands of life and love. It seemed to His dimming 
faculties that not His strength but His very being was 
giving way, and that He now hung by the nails no better 
than a mangled carcass of butcher's meat. 

Yes, Jesus is dying, His end is come. He seems to 
behold the spectre form of His Father's executioner, 
death, approaching. He bends His poor thorn-crowned 
head in submission to that relentless messenger of doom, 
whose hand, as it touches Him, withers up His bodily 
life — darkness settles thick upon Him, His muscles quiver 
and relax, His heart stops, a few feeble gasps for breath, 
and all is still. The body hangs limp and motionless. 
Jesus is dead. 

Thus He died, our Redeemer, and God's only-begotten 
Son, our advocate, our teacher, our only hope, our only 
joy. From the turmoil of Calvary's horrors the soul of 
Jesus thus passed into the tranquillity of the Godhead. 

He is dead. But how rich a legacy has He left us 
by His merits. Consider the priceless truth of God in our 
Catholic faith; the divine spirit Himself in all the 
Church's sacraments for our interior cleansing and en- 
lightenment and sanctification ; His own self, body and 
blood, soul and divinity, in the Eucharist, through which 



332 The Death of Jesus. 

greatest of sacraments He has bequeathed us a perpetual 
reminder of His passion and death. Consider the maxims 
of His Gospel and the example of His life, so fitly per- 
fected by His passion and death. O let us forever thank 
God for the death of Jesus and for the graces and the 
lessons of Calvary. 

O Jesus, when the angel of death came to summon 
Thee, bowing down Thy head in lowly reverence Thou 
gavest up Thy spirit to him, obedient to Thy Father's 
call. And what shall I do when my call comes? Jesus, 
teach me how to die. May I be then most reverently 
submissive to my Father who made me, most firmly con- 
fiding in Thee, my Redeemer, who saved me, mindful of 
Thy death for me upon the cross, my failing heart di- 
rected to the charity of God and the patience of His Son 
(II. Thes. iii. 5) in that dread hour of my final passage. 

How different is death since the death of Jesus. He 
has led our captivity captive (Eph. iv. 8). In surrender- 
ing to our fell enemy, the monster death, Jesus mastered 
it; and He drew its sting, extracting and exhausting the 
venom of sin (Heb. ix. 28), which alone makes death 
terrible. And how changed is death since then, when we 
witness it in those we love. 

The cross of Jesus has become the banner of a new 
and universal order of knighthood, in which valor saves 
its friends and conquers its enemies by suffering and 
dying for them. 

The death of Christ was His greatest act and the one 
most characteristic of Him. From this it follows that if 
I am to know Him well I must know Him crucified ; and 
if I aspire to proficiency in Christian wisdom, then must 
I be able to say : tc l judged not myself to know anything 



" He Gave up the Ghost." 333 

among you, but Jesus Christ, and Him crucified" (I. Cor. 
ii. 2), I must often read the history of His passion and 
death, and meditate on it devoutly, especially at Mass and 
communion, which are its perpetual memorial and the dis- 
tributing point of all its favors. If I am to preach His 
doctrine, I must, by preference, discourse to the people 
upon the discease which He accomplished at Jerusalem 
(Luke ix. 31), making sinners beat their breasts and 
exclaim : "Indeed this Man was the Son of God." If I am 
to set a good example to others, I must do as He did — 
men must say of me : He is ready to die for us, whether 
we be his friends or his foes. Even my bodily life must 
plainly show the wounds of the Lord Jesus (Gal. vi. 17) ; 
my inner life must be hidden with Christ in God, dead to 
all self-seeking (Col. iii. 3) ; zealous for souls, and ready 
to fill up those things that are wanting of the sufferings 
of Christ in my flesh for His body, which is His Church, 
and for all sinners (Col. i. 24) ; and finally, I must be 
able to say — if I have well learned the lesson of Calvary : 
"For me, to live is Christ; and to die is gain" (Phil. i. 
21). O cure of an ignoble life! O sweet longing to die 
for Christ and for the souls that He loved unto death ! 

By the death of Christ we learn the worth of a soul, 
and the meaning of the oft-repeated words, an immortal 
soul. Do you wish to know it well ? Listen to St. Augus- 
tine's valuation of a human soul: "Behold His wounds 
as He hangs, behold His blood as He dies, calculate the 
worth of His dying. Behold His scars as He rises again, 
His head bent down to kiss, His heart opened to love, His 
arms extended to embrace, His whole body displayed to 
redeem." 

To be content not to know why the Son of God suf- 



334 The Death of Jesus. 

fered Himself to be put to death, is for a Christian the 
capital sin of sloth most interiorly committed. To be 
content not to bring its lessons home to oneself practically, 
nor realize that "Christ died for sinners, of whom I am 
the chief" (I. Tim. i. 15), is to ignore the most personal 
message ever sent from heaven to earth. If the deeds and 
words of Christ's last agony are not a Christian's prac- 
tical guide, then is he a fool indeed. 

It is not only that one's relation to the heavenly 
Father becomes more vividly real, that God is felt and 
touched, tasted and drunk, when we drain our Savior's 
bitter cup with Him on Calvary. But all human relation- 
ships become closer and infinitely holier; for the charity 
of Christ presses every love into its service and places 
itself at the service of every love. What deeper sympathy 
for an afflicted friend, what more disinterested affection 
for wife or child, than that which is drunk in by medi- 
tation on the death of the Son of God for His very 
enemies. 

Our Holy One is dead. Upon the spot and at the 
moment of His death for my sins, it behooves me to pro- 
test once for all that sin shall no more have dominion over 
me. The Son of God died for me, this most affectionate 
and literally most self-sacrificing of friends — He died for 
my salvation. My salvation is henceforth my only real 
concern. Into Thy hands, O Jesus crucified, I commend 
my spirit, unreservedly and forever, to be owned and 
ruled by Thy Spirit in all things. Much may be said 
against me at the last accounting. It shall not be said 
that Thou didst die for me in vain. 



Chapter III. 

The Portents in Earth and Sky. 

And there was darkness over the whole earth until the ninth 
hour; and the sun was darkened. And behold the veil of the 
temple was rent in two from the top even to the bottom, and the 
earth quaked, and the rocks were rent. And the graves were 
opened; and many bodies of the saints that had slept arose, and 
coming out of the tombs after His resurrection, came into the 
holy city and appeared to many (Matt, xxvii. 45, 51-53; Mark xv. 
33, 38; Luke xxiii. 44, 45)- 

If God did not interrupt the crucifixion by His angels, 
yet he did interpose His power by various miraculous 
portents, more for men's edification than for His Son's 
relief. We have already meditated upon the darkening 
of the sun, for this took place the moment that Jesus 
was lifted into the air on His cross. 

St. Chrysostom says that the marvelous occurrences 
during the crucifixion were not only the signs of the 
anger of God, but also tokens of the anguish of His 
dying Son. He turned them to good account. By their 
means He saved many desperate sinners whom He had 
failed to save, whether by the sight of His sufferings or 
the sound of His loving words. These, however, must 
have had a powerful influence over them, especially His 
last cry : "Father, into Thy hands I commend My spirit/' 
so strong, so clear and so wonderfully tender in its 
accents of confidence in God. But the finishing touch 
was what these coarse natures required, signs of mastery 



336 The Death of Jesus. 

over the great elements of nature, exerted by One all 
full of tenderness for sinners — power and love were well 
mated on Calvary and won the victory at last; even over 
men who were little better than brutes. 

A very significant portent was the rending of the veil 
of the temple. The ancient memorials of Israel's election 
were kept in a sanctuary of the temple, a place of thrice 
holy seclusion, divided from the ordinary place of sacri- 
fice by a veil of precious material. This was woven of 
fine linen and silk, dyed with costly Tyrian purple and 
embroidered with scarlet and gold. Inside this veil none 
but the high priest ever entered, and he only once in the 
year and always alone, to offer the most solemn of the 
sacrifices prescribed by Moses. To "pass behind the 
veil" was an expression which meant to be secreted alone 
with the deity in the holy of holies for the most sacred 
of all religious offices. The instant that Jesus expired 
this veil "was rent in two, from the top, even to the 
bottom." 

Christ upon the cross superseded this veiled sanctity, 
for He, the very Son of the living God, is now displayed 
to all nations most openly ; the fulfilment of every sacred 
promise. And as Jesus crucified is the legislator of a 
divine law of love, the veil of the ancient law of fear is 
snatched away; the law of bondage is ended and the 
perfect law of holy liberty (James i. 25) is established in 
its stead forever. 

Of old God had said, concerning the temple : "I have 
sanctified this house which thou hast built, to put My 
name there forever, and My eyes and My heart shall be 
there always" (III. Kings ix. 3). But now God's name 
is written on Calvary, high above His Son's head drooped 



The Portents in Earth and Sky. 337 

in holy death, and God's eyes and His heart are there 
and not in the temple. Calvary supplants the temple, and 
the cross its holy of holies. Nor is this for one particu- 
lar place. For Calvary shall be multiplied in a countless 
number of altars, before which all races shall worship 
Jesus crucified, present behind the eucharistic veils. 

The glory of the temple of Jerusalem has departed. 
The angels of the mercy seat are fled and gone, crying 
out as they go: "Let us depart from this place" ; and 
they join the celestial spirits gathering about the soul of 
Jesus now being freed from the bonds of His mortal 
flesh. Their King will station them in due time to keep 
watch and ward about Him in His eucharistic sacrifice 
all round the world. 

That afternoon, as the worshippers in the temple saw 
the veil suddenly rent in twain, and heard in the air the 
mysterious voices of the vanishing angels, they were 
amazed and confounded; and yet more so by feeling 
at the same instant the deep rumblings of an earthquake, 
which rocked the solid walls, and shocked their souls with 
dread. God is working terrible wonders in earth, in 
sky, and in His temple, they must have thought, and 
the visitation of His anger is upon us. 

The Gospel narrative then tells of the bursting open 
of the tombs of many of the Hebrew saints, and their 
apparition in bodily form, after the resurrection, to num- 
bers of the people in Jerusalem. Jesus had foretold this : 
"The hour cometh when all that are in their graves shall 
hear the voice of the Son of God" (John v. 25). That 
voice was His death cry on the cross. 

When Jesus died He immediately visited the Limbus 
of the Hebrew saints, announced to them the salvation of 



338 The Death of Jesus. 

the world (I. Peter iii. 19), and bade them come forth 
from their repose and join the victorious soul of their 
Messias. These holy patriarchs, as the Lord's ancestors 
and brethren, outranked the angels themselves in His 
royal escort. The spirits of lawgivers and seers, priests 
and warriors of the ancient race are abroad in Israel ; they 
visit the temple and say farewell to that holy shrine, now 
vacated of the divine presence. 

So the disturbances in earth and sky and in the temple 
of God, and the opening of the graves of the just, wit- 
nessed to God's purpose in the crucifixion of Jesus. For 
we shall see later on that these marvels inspired fear in 
hearts not yet capable of the better feeling of love, and 
led them on finajly to acknowledge and adore Jesus as 
the Son of God. Let us never despise the lower motives 
of religion, any more than our Redeemer did, who, 
though He craves men's love with an ardor all divine, yet 
does not disdain the homage born of even the most slavish 
terror, which He knows how to make the first step to 
true contrition, and from that to the most disinterested 
love. 



Chapter IV. 
"Indeed this was the Son of God!' 

And the centurion who stood over against Him, seeing that 
crying out in this manner He had given up the ghost, said: In- 
deed this Man was the Son of God. And they that were with 
him watching Jesus, having seen the earthquake and the things 
that were done, were sore afraid, saying: Indeed this was a just 
Man, indeed this was the Son of God. And all the multitude of 
them that were come together to that sight, and saw the things 
that were done, returned striking their breasts. And all His 
acquaintance, and the women that had followed Him from 
Galilee, ministering unto Him, stood afar off beholding these 
things; among whom was Mary Magdalen, and Mary the mother 
of James the Less and of Joseph, and Salome, the mother of the 
sons of Zebedee, who also, when He was in Galilee, followed 
Him and ministered to Him, and many other women that came 
up with Him to Jerusalem (Matt, xxvii. 54-56; Mark xv. 39- 
41; Luke xxiii. 47-49). 

The miraculous portents in earth and sky gained a 
sweeping victory, carrying over to Jesus the Roman sol- 
diers and their officer, as well as the Jewish mob, "the 
whole multitude of them that were come together to that 
sight." The curious, heartless crowd of the city and the 
hard-natured men of the barracks were equally affected, 
changed and saved. They had all been against Him, and 
are now all for Him, and they do not hesitate to say so 
in the very words He puts into their hearts : "This Man 
was the Son of God." 

How different they had been before this, blaspheming 



34° The Death of Jesus. 

Jesus openly and mocking Him ; how different from Mary 
and John, "and all His acquaintance/' the women from 
Galilee. And now they are the same — one and all they be- 
lieve in Jesus and openly proclaim His divine Sonship; 
and with sincere regret for their previous unbelief, aye, 
and for their fearful words and more fearful deeds 
against Him, they beat their breasts with all humility. 
This is one of the most instructive happenings of Cal- 
vary. 

It was a saying of an ancient father of the desert : "If 
thou hast a heart, thou canst be saved." Even these off- 
scourings of the human race had hearts, and so they were 
brought to fear and love Jesus crucified. Nor let us say 
that this was altogether a victory of fear; for fear only 
began what nobler motives carried forward and ended. 
We may also believe that in some of them it was the 
moving sight of Christ on the cross that made even the 
quaking earth and the darkening sky effectual to change 
them. And first and last it was towards Jesus, dying and 
dead for His enemies, that their thoughts of whatever 
kind were directed, not towards the invisible majesty 
whose power the portents revealed. They did not say: 
The Almighty Lord of heaven and earth is angry, but 
rather: This Man who has just died, praying for His 
enemies, is no other than the Son of God. 

It is always a question how to treat those who have 
injured us grossly, or even grievously injured God's 
honor, especially if they are bent on doing further and 
greater mischief. St. Peter points to Calvary for an 
answer: "For unto this you are called; because Christ 
also suffered for us, leaving you an example, that you 
should follow His steps" (I. Pet. ii. 21). Good souls usu- 



"Indeed this was the Sou of God" 341 

ally pray privately for their depraved acquaintances, but 
externally avoid them and escape their company. Christ's 
way is different. "Rise up, let us go hence, he is at hand 
that will betray Me" ; and then He went from innocent 
company into the thick of the most wicked company on 
earth, went to meet Judas and his band; and He gave 
Himself up to them. Kings go to meet their enemies, 
armed with deadly weapons to kill and capture them. Our 
King — let it never be forgotten — goes to meet His ene- 
mies and lays down his arms to them, laying aside even 
words of admonition as He reaches the very crisis of His 
battle, speaking only those of forgiveness — our King and 
our model. The Apostles would strike with the sword, 
and their Master immediately disarms them. He ex- 
pressly declines the help of resistless angels, preferring 
ten thousand pangs of suffering to legions of warlike 
spirits. He will die for His enemies, and He will prefer 
that to every possible way of dealing with them. And 
He wins the battle that way : "And all the multitude of 
them that w r ere come together to that sight, and saw the 
things that were done, returned striking their breasts." 

The centurion's case is one of particular interest. "He 
was an uncircumcised pagan," says St. Bernard, "and yet 
by these tokens he recognized in Jesus the Lord of ma- 
jesty." He was probably an observant man and naturally 
of a religious disposition. He knew something of Jesus' 
claims as spiritual teacher and guide of the Jews; and it 
is very likely that he had been present, serving under the 
tribune, at the arrest the night before. When the larger 
force was dismissed he was left in command of the small- 
er one, detailed for the dreadful work on Calvary. It is 
quite probable, too, that he had been present during the 



342 The Death of Jesus. 

trial at Caiaphas' house and then had gone to his quarters 
and slept during the rest of the night, returning to his 
post at Pilate's court early in the forenoon, when he was 
charged with the crucifixion of the three malefactors. 

Gradually he had become deeply impressed with his 
prisoner, Jesus ; a man so meek and calm, so dignified un- 
der mocking and insult, and yet so forgiving; saying in- 
deed little but wonderful in every word — gradually it had 
grown upon him that Jesus' claim to be the Son of the liv- 
ing and true God was more than imposture, more than 
fanaticism. The three hours' agony completed the change 
in his thoughts. He was near Jesus; he was under His 
affectionate glances; he may have done our Savior's 
mother some favors; the words from the cross were 
enough to move any heart. What soul, but that of Annas 
or of Caiaphas, could see and hear all that occurred on 
Calvary and not be moved ? At last he sees Jesus die, and 
feels the interior touch of His liberated spirit melting him 
into entire recognition — this is the Son of God ! 

The Son of God ! "Of a truth this man was the Son 
of God !" And he felt the very earth trembling beneath 
him as a fit accompaniment of his act of lowly worship. 

The Gentiles sought and found Jesus as He was born 
and adored him ; nor did the indifference of the Jews or 
the treachery of Herod hinder them ; neither was the sad 
poverty of the stable of Bethlehem a scandal to them. 
And now, neither the hatred of the Jews nor the scandal 
of the cross can hinder this soldier, this type of Gentile 
Rome, from crying out from a full heart: "This Man 
was the Son of God !" 

The centurion's soldiers did the same — a greater mar- 
vel yet. They were a mere rabble, hardened by relentless 



"Indeed this was the Son of God." 343 

force into military discipline, the nameless sons of the 
idolatrous populations of the vast empire, men whose very 
trade was cruelty. Even these were converted and con- 
fessed Jesus to be the Son of God. Three hours before 
this they had scourged Him to the bone and crowned 
Him with thorns, and now they would suffer death rather 
than lay a finger on His very corpse. He had gradually 
softened even their dull minds until they began to see in 
Him something divine — so patient, so forgiving. In 
Pilate's hall they had bent the knee before Him in mock- 
ery, and now, as the earthquake shock appals them, they 
beat their breasts in all sincerity, gazing devoutly upon 
His lifeless form. Living, they executed Him; dying, 
they adored Him; "the earthquake and the things that 
were done," moving their souls with fear, the sight of 
Jesus' corpse softening their hearts with compassion and 
with contrition. 

Nor were these all who were given to Jesus as the 
first fruits of His death : "And all the multitude of them 
that were come together to that sight, and saw the things 
that were done, returned striking their breasts." They 
were the same "whole multitude" who, that forenoon, 
had unanimously voted for Barabbas in preference to 
Christ, yielding to the artful words or the bullying threats 
of the chief priests. They had cried out : "Crucify Him H 
And they had taken that other dreadful word from their 
masters and had shouted: "His blood be upon us and 
upon our children !" And now that His blood is shed they 
worship it — He is their King and their God. 

O wondrous power of a holy death, power for recon- 
ciliation, for pardon, peace and love. O what in all life 
is so precious as the privilege to bow down one's head . 



344 The Death of Jesus, 

and die for sinners. Jesus bowed his head to our foe, 
death, and gave up His life to him. Here then death 
gained dominion over Him. But instantly the dread 
spectre was revealed as the bearer of an infinite favor, 
both to Jesus and His enemies. At His death and not be- 
fore, the callous hirelings who had executed Him began 
to beat their breasts and adore Him ; and as to the hard- 
hearted Jews — the Ecce Homo had enraged them, the 
Christus Mortuus melts them; it moves them with pity 
and inspires them with faith, even His very corpse. 

All this is matter of serious reflection for us, each of 
whom is not onlv saved bv our Lord's death, but each in 
his place and measure must bear His message to others 
for their salvation. "We preach Christ crucified," ex- 
claims the Apostle (I. Cor. i. 23) ; which means that our 
words are like His death in their effects, making sinful 
men beat their breasts and adore the Son of God in all 
humility and contrition. 

Now, from among all His doctrines, He chose a cer- 
tain one as the best fitted for his sermon from the cross. 
It is that of God's mercy for sinners. And so should we, 
in dealing with sinners, select mercy rather than justice 
for our theme. If the disciple preaches rigor it is small 
compliment to his crucified Master who preached pardon. 
And from among all possible actions calculated to win 
souls, He chose dying for them as the most likely to suc- 
ceed. And there He hangs dead on the cross, His pat- 
tern for our dealings with sinners, just as His sermon 
on the cross is His model for our words to them. 

Lord, grant that I may die a happy death. And may 
I not only die in Thy friendship (O horror! to think of 
dying Thy enemy!) but, in my last agony, may my spirit 



"Indeed this was the Son of God." 345 

be strengthened by Thy priest and Thy sacraments ; may 
I die with loving friends around my bed, my associates 
and my models in Thy service. And yet, O Lord, how 
differently didst Thou die. Those whom Thou lovest 
best were, indeed, near Thee, Thy mother and Thy favor- 
ite disciple, but only those two and a few faithful women 
of Thy acquaintance from Thy home in Galilee. Thou 
didst choose to die amid Thy triumphant enemies and the 
brutal soldiers, their servants, so that Thou mightest save, 
even at Thy death and by its very stroke, those whom 
Thou couldst not save in life. Might I aspire to do the 
same ? Might I ask Thee that, through the merits of Thy 
last pangs, my final sorrows may avail to save those whom 
I have failed to save by my efforts in life ? — perhaps even 
by my faulty way of teaching them the lessons of Cal- 
vary. 



Chapter V. 
The Side of Wesus is Opened with a Lance. 

Then the Jews (because it was the parasceve), that the bodies 
might not remain upon the cross on the Sabbath day (for that 
was a great Sabbath day), besought Pilate that their legs might 
be broken, and that they might be taken away. The soldiers 
therefore came, and they broke the legs of the first, and of the 
other that was crucified with Him. But after they were come to 
Jesus, when they saw that He was already dead, they did not 
break His legs, but one of the soldiers with a spear opened His 
side, and immediately there came out blood and water. And he 
that saw it hath given testimony, and his testimony is true; and 
he knoweth that he saith true, that you also may believe. For 
these things were done that the Scripture might be fulfilled : You 
shall not break a bone of Him. And again another Scripture 
saith: They shall look on Him whom they pierced (John xix. 
31-37). 

Mary, John, the Magdalen, and the other faithful 
women were presently left alone with Jesus as He hung 
dead on the cross. It would seem that all others went 
away soon after He died. Our Redeemer's mother and 
her friends, doubtless, began to counsel anxiously together 
as to how they could take Him down and bury Him. 
They were shortly interrupted by the arrival of a party of 
soldiers from the city. These were not the ones who had 
crucified Jesus, for they had been converted and had re- 
turned to the city; but another band was sent by Pilate 
at the request of the Jews. They were ordered to break 
the legs of Jesus and of the two thieves, put them then 



The Side of Jesus is Opened. 347 

to death and remove their bodies, so that the sight of 
them and their cries of agony might not pollute the great 
passover Sabbath, which begun at sundown that evening. 
They immediately broke the thieves' legs and dispatched 
them, took them down and carried them away with them. 
Jesus they found already dead, and, unlike the other cru- 
cified, His body was affectionately watched by a group of 
friends. In their care the soldiers left it, being assured 
that they would see to its removal. But before the party 
of soldiers went away, one of them made sure that Jesus 
was dead by piercing His corpse with his spear. 

Usually malefactors were left to die from the cruci- 
fixion alone, which might be only after many hours of 
agony. But the Pharisees and chief priests did not allow 
things to take their usual course in this case. Their zeal 
for Sabbath observance was one reason; another was in 
order to be made certain that their victim was dead. 
Break His legs, they must have said to the soldiers, and 
stab Him to the heart; then fling the carrion corpse to 
the dogs ; away with Him, out of our sight. 

He was an offensive object to them. After they had 
seen Him writhing helplessly on the cross, and knew that 
a vast multitude had seen Him, their next care was to 
efface His memory from all minds, including their own, 
little supposing that His death would forever fill the whole 
race of mankind with the most peremptory questionings. 

The soldier who pierced him, thinking that perhaps 
he was not quite dead and might be only in a swoon, struck 
Him hard; his work was well and effectually done. The 
wound was large enough to hold a man's hand, for the 
Lord said to Thomas after His resurrection : "Bring 
hither thy hand, and put it into My side" (John xx. 27). 



34S The Death of Jesus. 

Thus did the Jews show reverence for their feast of 
the paschal lamb, by piercing to the heart and thrusting 
out of their sight the divine archetype of that same sym- 
bol, namely the Lamb of God Himself, slain for their sins. 

Jesus was spared the sickening sight of the breaking 
of the thieves' legs and the other dreadful scenes of their 
last moments — His eyes were dark in death, His soul was 
ranging free in the Limbus of the just, He was already 
beginning His life of eternal triumph. His seed time of 
tears and blood, of dreadful sights and heart-rending 
sounds, was done and over forever, His harvest of joy 
begun. 

But the Jews, besides their eagerness to remove our 
Lord's corpse from the city's gate during the passover, 
<were also uneasy about His prophecy of rising again from 
the dead. This was another reason to make doubly sure 
of His death. The sudden descent of darkness at mid- 
day, the earthquake, the startling news of the rending 
of the veil of the temple, the rumors of the opening of the 
tombs of their ancient saints, although not enough to 
convert them, were yet more than enough to alarm them ; 
and so they were hot and eager to be done with Jesus, 
finally and forever. 

But we must not too readily dismiss from our medita- 
tion the purpose of the Jews to purify their city by cleans- 
ing it of the body of Jesus. For certainly such a sight as 
these three malefactors writhing in their death agonies 
at the gate of the holy city, their bodies smeared with 
blood, the air filled with their screams and their blas- 
phemies, affrighting the worshippers passing to and from 
the temple, would indeed desecrate the sanctity of the 
greatest Sabbath of the year. 



The Side of Jesus is Opened. 349 

But how is it now ? Now, on every day that is sacred 
to God and to His people, it is this very same spectacle 
that draws together all the civilized races of mankind. 
They assemble about the crucified Redeemer to worship 
Him and His Father and His Holy Spirit, to pray for the 
living and the dead, to forgive one another's injuries, to 
pour out peace offerings and thank offerings. In order to 
show forth and perpetuate every detail of this event, so 
disgusting to the Jews, the Lord instituted the Eucharist, 
the foremost public rite of His religion, not only repre- 
senting, but actually reproducing His crucifixion, in which 
He continues to immolate Himself in a most miraculous 
manner and most joyously, and then rises again tri- 
umphantly into our daily Jives. What profaned the Jew- 
ish Sabbath sanctifies the Christian Sabbath and adorns 
every Christian temple with heavenly attractions. How 
wonderful a power has death when offered for God's 
honor and our brothers' welfare. 

Giving Jesus His fifth wound was a providence as 
blessed as it was singular. Nothing in the whole marvel- 
ous narrative touches Christians more keenly than this 
stabbing of the corpse of Jesus. It made His great wound 
the deepest, clean to the heart, wide as a man's hand, made 
certainly by a heavy thrust that pushed and swayed corpse 
and cross as the spear was driven home. It was right 
that His great wound should be reserved for His heart, 
the organ of His great virtue, love. 

It was His last wound. "It is finished," had Jesus 
murmured when He had tasted the vinegar, whose very 
bitterness was embittered by insult. It is finished, may 
have said the hard-natured soldier, as his arm, nerved by 
the hate of the Jews, drove their murder into the Re- 



350 The Death of Jesus. 

deemer's dead heart — I have finished Him, I have made 
sure of Him. 

After that stroke no hand touched Jesus but in love. 
And that wound in the still heart of Jesus did Him no 
hurt, but hurt only His mother, who covered her face as 
she saw the soldier draw back and poise his weapon ; and 
she thanked God her Son was dead. And then at second 
thought, she thanked the heavenly Father for this most 
eloquent of the five witnesses of her Son's love for men. 

Note well that Jesus suffered in all his bodily frame, 
and, for special purposes of love, in each one of them — 
His hands are pierced that His precious blood may bedew 
their generous gifts to us ; His feet are pierced, that blood 
may mark His tracks as He searches zealously for our 
souls; His brain is tortured by a thorny crown that His 
thoughts may trickle blood as they ache and throb for 
us; and now the heart, the very organ of love, receives 
the deepest cut of all, and is drained dry of its tears and 
its blood, so generously poured out at every step of His 
atonement for our sins. 

To permit this wound was as if an afterthought of 
our Redeemer. He would say to Himself: What! 
canst Thou not suffer something for Thy beloved after 
Thou art dead ? And He answers : I can ; My heart, 
though dead, remains as yet untouched, and it is within 
reach of their hate ; let it receive love's last wound. My 
mother, too, and her company, are yet on Calvary, they 
shall stand for my living self and bear the very pain that 
I should bear were I still alive and had been struck this 
mortal blow. 

All men recognize a deeper depth of hate, if a trium- 
phant foe spurns the dead body of his slain enemy, and 



The Side of Jesus is Opened. 351 

then stabs it. Our Redeemer could not forego the privi- 
lege of this indignity. As if to say : After My heart is 
pulseless and dead, it has yet a tribute of love to offer — 
what I could not give my enemies and live, namely, my 
heart's blood, I will give for their salvation after I am 
dead. 

It is thus the overflowing of the measure of His good- 
ness, that the blood that was left when life was gone 
should yet be sought and shed by His enemies, and should 
be offered up by His blissful soul and His most sorrowful 
mother for our redemption. Jesus, already dead, dis- 
honored and disfigured, is now a corpse, drained dry and 
bloodless for love of us. 

We know that the five great wounds of Jesus have 
never closed, as is plain from the account of His ap- 
paritions after His resurrection. 

In heaven this day Jesus feels Himself all the more 
our Redeemer for the deep wound He can show in His 
very heart. And we can lift a more grateful voice of 
love as we cry : Thanks be to God for the wounded heart 
of Jesus. 

It was an afterwound. And what is all the work of 
Christ with sinners but an afterwound of hearts ? If He 
can but put a touch of pain in a sinner's heart after Tie 
has sinned, He has won it. And as to His choicest 
friends — what is His completed and after-work with them 
but to cut them to their hearts' core with sympathetic 
love, both for Himself in His passion and for sinners for 
whose sake He died? 

Meditation on this fifth wound, therefore, has always 
had a powerful effect upon our Redeemer's followers. 
St. Augustine voices the ancient church, giving us the 



352 The Death of Jesus, 

symbolical and truest interpretation: "The evangelist 
carefully chose his words when he said, not that the 
soldier struck, or wounded, but that he opened the side 
of Christ ; that the door of life might thus, as it were, be 
opened, from whence the sacraments of the Church 
flowed forth, without which there is no entrance to true 
life." And the Church herself says in her hymns that 
she was born like a new Eve from the opened side of our 
new Adam. 

Providence in these later days has led Christians to 
adore that stricken heart with special fervor, and in the 
devotion of the Sacred Heart has given us a powerful 
help in our worship of the supreme love of Jesus, espe- 
cially as shown us in the holy Eucharist. 

And this is kindred to our best feelings. For what 
do we say of bad men? That they are hard hearted, 
proud hearted, sensual hearted, cruel hearted. And of 
Him on our altars? Tender hearted, meek and humble 
hearted, pure hearted. The Sacred Heart devotion has 
offered the Eucharistic Christ a new tribute of sympathy 
and of loyalty, increasing by many millions the fervent 
throng of souls gathered about His heart's dearest shrine 
in holy Mass, and at His generous banquet table in holy 
communion. 



Chapter VI. 

Jesus is Taken Down from the Cross. 

And after these things, when evening was now come, there 
came a certain rich man of Arimathea, a city of Judea, named 
Joseph, who was a councillor, a good and just man (the same 
had not consented to their counsel and doings) ; who also him- 
self looked for the Kingdom of God. This man came and went 
in boldly to Pilate and begged the body of Jesus (because he was 
a disciple of Jesus, but secretly for fear of the Jews). But Pilate 
wondered that He should be already dead; and sending for the 
centurion, he asked him if He were already dead. And when he 
understood it by the centurion, Pilate commanded that the body 
should be delivered to Joseph. He came, therefore, and Nico- 
demus also came, he who at first came to Jesus by night, bringing 
a mixture of myrrh and aloes, about a hundred pounds. And 
Joseph, bringing fine linen, and taking Him down, wrapped Him 
up in the fine linen, wich the spices, as the manner of the Jews is 
to bury (Matt, xxvii. 57-59; Mark xv. 42-46; Luke xxiii. 50-53; 
John xix. 38-40). 

The soldier who pierced the side of Jesus did the last 
offense against His body. From that moment it was to 
be treated with the most affectionate reverence. Living it 
was covered with spittle and beaten in the face, scourged 
and crowned with thorns, and after it was dead it was 
stabbed to the heart. Now His mother's tears are its 
sacred ointment, and none but loving hands shall ever 
touch it again. God has barred off from it all further 
indignity. 

Our Redeemer's dead body remained about three 



354 The Death of Jesus. 

hours on the cross before being taken down, He having 
died about three o'clock; and only "when evening had 
come" did Joseph of Arimathea petition Pilate for leave 
to bury Him. Meantime the perplexity of Mary and her 
friends was no doubt extreme, the little company being 
gathered about the cross, waiting for they knew not what. 
Joseph may have been with them before going to Pilate, 
in which case their trouble of mind would be lessened, 
and, on his return to them from Pilate, entirely relieved. 
He sought the governor's permission to bury our Re- 
deemer because of his love for Him, and also as a safe- 
guard against the interference of the Jews, who might 
have wished to dispose of the body themselves, with what 
intention and in what manner we can easily imagine. 

Joseph was the first Jew of any kind who spoke to 
Pilate on behalf of Jesus ; and he, alas, only after Jesus 
was dead. Pilate must have said to him: Where were 
you thTs morning at the trial ? Why did you not assemble 
this innocent Man's friends and speak out for Him in my 
court? If I had had your countenance and help I could 
have saved Jesus. You are a noble councillor indeed. 
You are bold enough to bury the dead ; where was your 
boldness to save the living? 

How strange a condition. On that awful day of cow- 
ardice high praise is given to Peter because he did not 
despair — after his perjured denial of his Master; Pilate 
is commended that he clung obstinately to the title he 
wrote for the cross — although he had basely delivered 
Jesus to the fury of His enemies ; and Joseph of Arimathea 
is lauded for his boldness — he dared ask leave to bury 
His corpse. The only really bold friends of Jesus were 
weeping women. 



Jesus is Taken Down from the Cross. 355 

Pilate would not believe Joseph's report that Jesus 
was already dead, for he had but just given the chief 
priests leave to kill Him by breaking His legs. He, there- 
fore, sent for the centurion, and as this officer reported 
that he had seen Jesus die, Pilate "commanded that the 
body should be delivered to Joseph." 

Thus it happened that it was not given to His mother, 
who yielded willingly to the dispositions of Providence. 
Nor to His Apostles; they were not rich men nor coun- 
cillors, too poor and obscure to approach the governor, 
and having no heart anyway to ask so perilous a favor. 
But Joseph and Nicodemus were members of the high 
council of Israel. And now that the death of Christ had 
expelled the fear of the Jews from their hearts, their 
name and office and wealth shall serve His mortal re- 
mains and His mother's love in the last sad offices of 
friendship. 

Anxious and hurried, Joseph must have gone to the 
governor soon after the chief priests had been there, they 
to beg the quick killing of Jesus, and -he, knowing He 
was already dead, to ask the custody of the sacred body — 
boldly, too, and doubtless in their sight. And so it 
happens that Joseph and Nicodemus are to be forever 
honored as favored assistants to her who was our chief 
mourner at the funeral of the Redeemer of our souls. 

Joseph, obtaining Pilate's permission, hastened out to 
Calvary, bringing with him the tools needed for drawing 
the nails, a ladder for reaching the arms of the cross and 
a supply of "fine linen" for enshrouding the corpse. As 
to Nicodemus, we know not exactly when he joined 
Joseph ; perhaps he went to Pilate with him. Nicodemus, 
on his part, bought a hundred-pound weight of drugs for 
the embalmment. 



356 The Death of Jesus, 

With these two men was associated the beloved dis- 
ciple John in the work of loosening and lowering the 
body, not without the eager help of Mary and the other 
women. It was no easy matter; it must have taken all 
their strength and consumed some time to detach and 
lower the body, anxiously watching, meanwhile, the 
slowly sinking sun. Imagine the difficulty of loosening 
those large, rough, deep-driven nails, at the same time 
supporting the corpse and hindering its falling headlong 
to the ground. 

And consider how their souls were overflowing all 
the time with unspeakable reverence. Their piety, as we 
cannot help believing, was deeply shocked by not only 
their close contact with His many wounds, but by finding, 
when the nails were drawn, that the corpse adhered — as 
it must have done — to the wood of the cross. His blood 
had almost glued Him to that symbol of His love, to 
which His soul had adhered yet more closely in life by 
His purpose to save us by His crucifixion : "To reconcile 
all things unto Himself, making peace through the blood 
of His cross" (Col. i. 20), says the Apostle. 

At last it is lowered down — that poor body, wrenched 
and distorted and limp, pale as wax, but mostly marked 
with blots and streaks of blood. From that face there was 
now no responsive look, as they gathered about it and 
hung over it — Jesus is lying there naked, blood-smeared, 
cold, dead. And what man or woman there, always ex- 
cepting Mary, but was transported with inconsolable grief 
as Jesus was taken down from the cross? They must 
have rent the air with their wailings and their sobs — all 
but His mother, who, though deeply suffering, was yet 
self-possessed, because she was His mother, and because 
she alone enjoyed clear faith in His resurrection. 



Jesus is Taken Down from the Cross. 357 

Mary's sorrow was different from that of the others. 
O how beautiful was that corpse to her, its glorious 
wounds, the royal purple of its blood ; and how sweet its 
fragrance as she kissed it over and over again. And 
how much sweeter yet she knew those graces to be that 
pour out of every wound and bruise into the lives of all 
mankind — fragrant of eternal paradise, "an oblation and 
a sacrifice to God for an odor of sweetness" (Eph.v. 2). 

And yet she, too, had her full share of suffering. For 
how sharp a pain was hers as she received the body into 
her arms and upon her lap, her dead Son, and dead with 
such cruel marks of torment. She gratified her aching 
heart by looking more closely at those five awful wounds, 
which had pierced her inmost soul as she saw them in- 
flicted on Him — the great rent in His side, still dripping 
blood and water, each hand and each foot dug through 
with a ragged wound. How sorrowfully she kissed each 
one of them ; how devoutly she adored that divine body, 
so truly God's Son's, so truly her Son's. She offers it 
with entire unity of purpose with her Son to the eternal 
Father, for the sins of the race whose curse He so gener- 
ously had borne upon the tree (Gal. iii. 13). 

We can but faintly imagine her feelings and we know 
not what words she said, if indeed she said aught but 
voiceless words to God and to the spirit of her Son. She 
had given Him up to the world, the most beautiful of the 
sons of men ; and now the world returns Him to her with 
a beauty yet more exalted, indeed, but most unspeakably 
sad. She had seen His form only the night before full 
of all grace and dignity; He now rests on her bosom a 
dead corpse, smeared with His own blood, showing all 
the work of hate and avarice, cowardice and treachery. 



358 The Death of Jesus. 

Yet, with all her sighs of pain, an occasional sigh of 
relief is mingled — "It is finished," I feel His soul's peace- 
ful serenity deep within my own. For may we not sup- 
pose that the soul of her Son 4 liberated from its broken 
body, began its mission of peace by inspiring Mary with 
a foretaste of the resurrection, at least at intervals, and 
in the higher regions of her consciousness? He could 
hardly fail to communicate to her some part of the glory 
that now entranced His spirit ; some gleams of light must 
have pierced her darkness. 

I" Yet we must remember that, whatever her spirit knew, 
Mary's eyes and hands and lips and bosom were en- 
thralled by this awful wreck of her Son, embracing it with 
a mother's tenderness while she mourned over it with a 
mother's grief. And she would have the whole world 
know and share her grief. She would, especially, have 
passed her Son's body around the next day from house to 
house through all Israel ; for this was the divine paschal 
lamb, whose feeble emblem they venerated in their 
solemnity. 

Never was Mary so beautifu.1 as while bending over 
her Son's corpse and then embracing it, jewelling her 
garments and her lips and brow with the dark spots of 
His blood. "I am black but beautiful, O ye daughters 
of Jerusalem" (Cant. i. 4), she might exclaim, adorned 
as she was with the sorrowful insignia of our race's queen. 

Such, then, was Mary's part in the last scenes on Cal- 
Tary. Calmly had she assisted in taking Him down from 
the cross, says the devout Baronius, and then, "washing 
His wounds with her tears, folding His corpse in her 
arms, and saying at last with a calm voice : O Lord, the 
mystery ordained for Thee before all ages has come at 



Jesus is Taken Down from the Cross. 359 

length. And on giving the linen to Joseph, she said : It 
will now be thy duty to bury Him honorably in this, to 
perfume Him with myrrh, and to perform for Him all 
rightful observances." 

For the funeral must begin; time pressed, the Sab- 
bath hour of sunset was very near. Mary's associates, 
dreading the return of the soldiers, or of the servants of 
the chief priests, must have entreated her to allow them 
to prepare the body for the grave. 

We owe Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus an ad- 
ditional word of praise and congratulation. Their eman- 
cipation from human respect was one of the first effects 
of the death of Jesus. His soul acted directly upon 
theirs; His purely spiritual influence was more potent 
than His bodily presence and his spoken word had been : 
Jesus dead is more eloquent than Jesus living. And even 
to this day no victory of the cross is more noble than to 
change a cowardly Christian into a fearless one. 

Joseph and Nicodemus, from sneaking caitiffs, imme- 
diately became brave friends of a fallen chief. As His 
foes of all orders began at once, on Jesus' death, to say : 
"This Man was the Son of God," so the two timid council- 
lors advance to the front like heroes, expose themselves 
calmly to the wrath of the chief priests and boldly ob- 
tain possession of the Lord's body. And they bury Him 
not as a criminal, but as a great and wonderful prophet. 
Jesus at His death instantly converted His enemies into 
friends ; and he presently proceeds to transform his luke- 
warm friends into His open defenders. They had been 
afraid of the chief priests, of Pilate, of the mob, of their 
fellow councillors ; now they are afraid of no one but God 
— afraid only of being cowards. They had never dreamed 



360 The Death of Jesus, 

of approaching Jesus in His lifetime, except "secretly, 
for fear of the Jews" ; now that He is dead they are the 
most prominent mourners at His funeral. Least of all 
had they ever invited Him to their houses. Now, says 
Joseph, I will give Him the Hebrew's most sacred home, 
my very sepulchre — it is to be His and His alone; and 
His memory is forever embalmed in my heart's dearest 
affections. This very forenoon, if you but pointed your 
finger at me, I wilted with terror, and now I defy your 
fiercest hate. I am for Jesus of Nazarath, publicly and 
privately, now and forevermore. I will be crucified my- 
self for Him. I will stand against you and the whole 
world for Him and for His teaching. I am rich — take all 
my money ; I am high in office — degrade me and turn me 
out of the synagogue. I am for Jesus crucified, at all 
hazards and at every expense. Thus is the cross of 
Jesus crucified the nursury of heroes. 

Prayer of Ludolph the Saxon : "O Jesus, who didst 
choose not to come down from the cross living, but to be 
taken down from it dead, for the instruction of the elect, 
grant that I may worthily receive Thy true body from 
Thy sacred altar as if from the altar of the cross. And 
grant that so long as I live, I may not come down from 
this cross, to which I have been affixed in the profession 
of Thy service, except when it shall please Thee to re- 
quire from this body the soul which Thou hast given me. 
Then only, and at Thy call, may I be taken down from 
the cross, and at Thy invitation be brought to the repose 
of paradise. Amen." 



Chapter VII. 
The Burial of Jesus. 

[Joseph] came therefore, and Nicodemus also came, he who 
at first came to Jesus by night, bringing a mixture of myrrh and 
aloes, about a hundred pounds. And Joseph bringing fine linen, 
and taking Him down, wrapped Him up in fine linen, with che 
spices, as the manner of the Jews is to bury. Now there was in 
the place where He was crucified, a garden; and Joseph, taking 
the body, laid it in his own new monument, which he had hewed 
out in a rock in the garden — a new sepulchre, wherein no man 
yec had been laid. And he rolled a great stone to the door of the 
monument, and went his way. And it was the day of the Par- 
asceve, and the Sabbath drew on. There, therefore, because of 
the Parasceve of the Jews, they laid Jesus, because the sepulchre 
was nigh at hand (Matt, xxvii. 59, 60; Mark xv. 46; Luke xxiii. 
53,54; Johnxix. 39-42). 

Why did not the chief priests demand the body of 
Jesus themselves, and make away with it as suited their 
animosity? Some remnant of fear of His miraculous 
powers hindered them. Or they thought: What differ- 
ence does it make? The guard has returned and reports 
Him dead ; a Roman soldier knows a dead man when he 
sees one — his spear can find the vital spot in his victim. 
And so they left the door open for Joseph's holy zeal. 

Were it not for Joseph, the mother of Jesus would 
have had no way of burying her Son's corpse. Nor was 
his generosity stinted; it was no ordinary interment he 
would give Jesus, but all the embalming that time would 
allow ; and no other resting place than his own sepulchre. 



362 The Death of Jesus. 

He sincerely thanked Providence for guiding him, but 
lately to prepare it for his own burial. 

It was an unspeakable privilege to him to lay that 
holy body, that dearest treasure that all earth contained, 
"in his own new monument, a new sepulchre, in which 
no man had yet been laid." And Nicodemus felt pro- 
foundly honored by the privilege of helping Joseph, and 
of spending a great sum of money for a hundredweight 
of spices for the embalmment; and both of these men 
must have wept with emotion to receive the heartfelt 
thanks of Mary as, with the aid of John, they set about 
their task of entombing her Son. 

It was a hurried funeral, "because of the Parasceve of 
the Jews." The Hebrew Sabbath seemed to haunt our 
Savior, even after His death. It had been a serious cause 
of His persecution during life, and now it hurried His 
body into its grave. It was, as we have seen, the great 
festival recalling the paschal lamb slain at the deliverance 
of Israel from Egyptian bondage and given by God as a 
type of Jesus. The Jews clung to this paschal lamb as 
against the Lamb of God. To them the external memor- 
ials of their ancient glories had become the beginning and 
end of their religion, and their great Sabbath day crowded 
and hurried their very Redeemer into His grave. O 
God, teach us always to value the types of things divine 
for the sake of the divine realities and not for their own 
sakes. 

The embalming of the sacred body and all the other 
devout offices of the burial were, most probably, done in 
and about the tomb itself. This was a small chamber 
excavated in the rocky hillside. It was about fifty paces 
distant from the spot of the crucifixion. Joseph, Nicode- 



The Burial of Jesus. 363 

mus and the Apostle John placed the body upon the folds 
of the linen and carried it to the tomb, the women follow- 
ing on with reverent steps, Mary at their head. Arriving 
at the entrance of the tomb they laid their precious bur- 
den down in front of it; water was then procured, and, 
while the women stood apart, the men washed our Re- 
deemer's body. They washed it clean of all the clotted 
blood, the stains of the spittle and of the dust of the road 
into which he had fallen on the way of the cross. And 
while they worked they noted again and again with ach- 
ing hearts every wound of the scourges, all the bruises 
from blows and kicks, the wounds in the hands and feet, 
the great opening in the side. They finally folded His 
limbs into their proper position and arranged His sacred 
hair and beard smoothly and becomingly. 

O how enviable a task was theirs. Who does not wish 
to have shared it, and to have ministered the last rites to 
that body in company with these three favored men, pour- 
ing on water, wiping with towels, adjusting the limbs, 
counting the wounds, all done upon Jesus crucified, with 
many tears of affection, sighs of painful sympathy, offer- 
ings of heartfelt love. 

Next the winding sheet of fine linen was laid upon the 
floor of the tomb, and over it were spread the embalming 
spices. Upon them the body was laid, more spices again 
were spread over it, and then the linen was wrapped fold 
upon fold around the whole corpse, excepting the head. 
Now the women were called to bid farewell to their 
Master before the face was covered. 

First comes Mary. As she kisses His lips, her 
mother's tears fall fast, and, with all her perfect faith in 
His resurrection, her soul is unspeakably sad. Her 



364 The Death of Jesus. 

tears are His most fitting balm. Now Magdalen pays 
her farewell to her beloved Master, who had not dis- 
dained her penitent tears, nor her loving anointing when 
all men loathed and despised her except Jesus Himself, 
and derided Him for His mercy to the ."woman that was 
a sinner." At last all the others look and say their fare- 
well to Jesus, most lovingly and most sadly. Yet these 
women are not content; they have agreed among them- 
selves that this hasty and imperfect embalmment shall 
not be the final one. They purpose to return when the 
Sabbath is over and anoint and embalm Jesus over again 
and more perfectly, and to do it themselves ; and they shall 
be rewarded for this by the first sight of His risen glory. 

When all have taken their last look at the dead form 
of Jesus, and dropped their tears upon His face, His head 
is wrapped around with a napkin containing a layer of 
spices. Then the men manage, doubtless with some diffi- 
culty to roll the great stone across the low entrance of 
the sepulchre. There then is Jesus enclosed in the dark 
vault of the dead — Jesus is buried. 

They all stood there for a while in the deepening 
twilight, silent and awestruck. Perhaps Joseph then en- 
toned a Psalm of David, might it not have been our own 
familiar De Profundi?, our own sigh of mingled sorrow 
and hope at the grave of our beloved dead ? 

Mary, the three men, and most of the women im- 
mediately returned into the city. Magdalen, however, 
and Mary, the cousin of Jesus' mother, lingered near for 
a further while, reluctant to withdraw. Soon these are 
dismissed by the guard sent out by Pilate to watch the 
tomb. 

And what of Jesus' oft-repeated prophecy of His 



The Burial of Jesus. 365 

resurrection? If Joseph of Arimathea had positively 
believed it, had understood it, not as a mystical, figurative 
prophecy, but as a prediction of a real resuscitation of the 
dead body, he would have taken the corpse into the city 
and watched with it till life returned. There is little 
doubt but that neither he nor any of the others had any 
expectation of a real resurrection, except Mary alone. 
She held her heart true to her Son's actual return to life, 
for her divine motherhood made her the depositary of 
the Redeemer's promises, known and understood by her 
in their fullest meaning. 

But this burial of Jesus, being in all respects that of a 
man dead and gone like any other dead man, was to be 
of essential importance in the preaching of the Gospel, 
whose truth rests upon the reality of Jesus returning 
back to perfect bodily life. The corpse, the embalmment, 
the tomb, the great stone; and afterwards the Roman 
guard, the seal, the lapse of the silent hours from Friday 
till Sunday — all this ministered those proofs of His resur- 
rection, which were antecedently necessary. They made 
a perfect chain of evidence when the empty tomb was 
shown, and the many witnesses had seen the selfsame 
Jesus alive, His identical wounds all shining with im- 
mortal glory. 

And Providence had provided a new tomb for the 
burial of Jesus, lest it might be pretended that the sub- 
sequent apparitions of the risen Lord were of some other 
person buried there before Him. The burial of the Re- 
deemer thus intervenes between His death and resurrec- 
tion as the link inseparably binding together those two 
great events. Hence our Christian creeds say not only 
that Jesus was dead, but "dead and buried/' before af- 



366 The Death of Jesus. 

firming our faith that "the third day he rose again." The 
narrative of the burial locates the dead body and names 
the men and women who saw it and handled it and cared 
for it, embalmed it, and finally placed it in the grave and 
enclosed it there with a great stone. 

We cannot help noticing in the burial of Jesus His per- 
sistent love of the virtue of poverty. Not a stitch of His 
own clothes is placed on His corpse. The shroud that 
enwraps Him and the spices that embalm Him are pro- 
vided not by His own foresight, or at His mother's ex- 
pense or that of His Apostles' ; but they are the spontane- 
ous gift of men almost strangers to Him; and His last 
resting place is the same. In His death and His burial, as 
in all His life, His preference was to be beholden to the 
charity of others, even in things the most personal and 
sacred. 

"He who had no home of His own when alive, has no 
tomb of His own when dead," says an ancient Father of 
the Church, "but is laid in another man's grave, and being 
naked is clothed by Joseph." After this who that is a 
Christian will grudge a poor man a night's shelter, or 
grumble to help a poor bereaved family decently to bury 
their beloved dead ? 

So Joseph "rolled a great stone to the door of the 
monument and went his way." He felt as if a great stone 
were pressing down his own very heart as he returned to 
his home, distressed, pondering the future, hoping and 
yet dreading. But he deeply felt the honor that had been 
his — that to him of all the race of Israel had been given 
the privelege of burying Jesus, the Messias. And Joseph, 
in this holy office, began that loving care for the divine 
body which has soothed so many eucharistic souls all 



The Burial of Jesus. 367 

these succeeding ages, in building churches and altars 
and in adorning them as the resting place of the risen 
Lord, really present among us. For as we meditate on the 
burial of Jesus, we cannot help thinking of Him in our 
tabernacle. I wish that I had half the reverence for Jesus 
living and enthroned on my altar that Joseph had for 
Jesus dead and buried in his own monument. I pray that, 
when in my communions I embalm Him in my affections 
and introduce Him into the innermost chamber of my 
soul, I may feel for the glorious King of men and angels 
the heartfelt love that Joseph and his associates felt for 
the broken and wounded form that they enclosed in the 
tomB. 

St. Paul teaches his converts that by Baptism they 
are buried with Christ (Coll. ii. 12), to rise again by the 
operation of His grace into the beginnings of a new life. 
But the sacrament of the Eucharist, is our yet more im- 
mediate connection with the buried Savior. For as they 
embalmed that form, they honored a body which is itself 
the balm that shall preserve the bodies of the elect sweet 
and pure for all eternity by its eucharistic life : "The 
bread that I will give is My flesh for the life of the world. 
He that eateth My flesh, and drinketh My blood, 
hath everlasting life, and I will raise him up in the last 
day" (John vi. 52, 55). For as His soul descended into 
Limbo, Jesus was affectionately mindful of His body in 
Joseph's tomb. And now that Christ, soul and body being 
forever united, is risen, ascended on high and reigns in 
heaven, He is yet present with us on our altars, body and 
blood, soul and divinity, dispensing to our souls all the 
graces of Calvary, anointing our mortal bodies with the 
balm of everlasting life. 



Chapter VIII. 
Watching the Sepulchre. 

And Mary Magdalen and Mary the mother of Joseph, sitting 
over against the sepulchre, beheld where He was laid. And the 
[other] women that were come with Him from Galilee, following 
after, saw the sepulchre, and how His body was laid; and re- 
turning, they prepared spices and ointments; and on the Sabbath 
day they rested according to the commandment. And the next 
day, which followed the day of preparation, the chief priests of 
the Pharisees came together to Pilate, saying: Sir, we have re- 
membered that that seducer said, while He was yet alive: After 
three days I will rise again. Command, therefore, the sepulchre 
to be guarded until the third day; lest perhaps His disciples come 
and steal Him away, and say to the people : He is risen from the 
dead; and the last error shall be worse than the first. Pilate 
said to them : You have a guard ; go, and guard it as you know. 
And they departing, made the sepulchre sure, sealing the stone, 
and setting guards (Matt, xxvii. 61-66; Mark xv, 47; Luke xxiii. 
55, 56). 

Our devout steps have brought us to the end of our 
journey. Jesus is crucified, is dead and buried. Let us, 
for our final meditation, consider the watch set over His 
holy grave by both friends and foes, begging the grace 
of ardent sympathy for His death and of certain hope in 
His resurrection, together with affectionate veneration 
for His body and the grave in which its rests. 

That body was the masterpiece of God's wisdom and 



Watching the Sepulchre. 369 

power among earthly creatures. It was fashioned by the 
Holy Spirit out of Mary's virginal substance, it was made 
the instrument of holy suffering for all our sins, and at 
the same time of vindication of the injured majesty of 
God. The body of Jesus was a fit companion for His 
soul, and He loved it dearly, all the more dearly during 
His passion, most especially when dead and buried. And 
His soul, descending into Limbo's happy shades, or soar- 
ing aloft to the Father's heavenly welcome, had but one 
element lacking to its complete beatitude — if it is lawful 
to say so — union with its body, a body restored to its 
former integrity and with the added glory of its sacred 
wounds. 

Joseph and Nicodemus went their way in sorrow after 
the funeral and burial of Jesus. The sorrowful mother, 
as night draws on, is admonished by St. John of approach- 
ing darkness and that they must return to the city. She 
kneels before her Son's tomb, and kisses the stone that 
encloses Him; she then rises, and, with John and the 
greater number of the women, takes her journey into Jeru- 
salem. Magdalen and another, perhaps several others, 
"sitting over against the sepulchre," still lingered there, 
mournfully looking at the place of His repose. We 
know that they intended to return the day after the 
morrow to give the body a better anointing and embalm- 
ing, Magdalen especially feeling that she was entitled to a 
foremost part in that devout office. These were our 
Savior's first watchers. And many angels were their 
fellow-watchers around His grave, silent and invisible 
guardians if His divine remains. 

Roman soldiers presently intruded their unwelcome 



370 The Death of Jesus. 

presence. An official of the temple approached, or per- 
haps even one of the chief priests, leading back the guard 
that had broken the legs of the thieves and pierced the 
side of Jesus that afternoon. They quickly placed their 
sentinels and then hurried the women away; and the 
darkness of night fell upon the scene. 

The chief priests had procured the guard from the 
governor. At first they had seemed to care little about 
the disposal of the body of their victim — He was dead, 
that was enough; and they did not interfere with the 
burial. Their joy at His death was like the delirium of 
madmen, as had been their rage against Him while living. 
But their joy was dashed by the disturbances in the sky 
and earth, by the mysterious rending of the veil of the 
temple, and the sudden repentance of many of their 
friends. Then came the open profession of faith in 
Jesus by the Roman centurion, the boldness of Joseph and 
Nicodemus, members of their council and finally the honor- 
able interment they learned that Jesus was going to re- 
ceive. He was worse than carrion to them, and they 
found with much uneasiness that He was more honored 
and loved dead than He had been while alive. They re- 
called His prophecy of rising from the dead. Perhaps, 
thought they, His followers, emboldened by the accession 
of the two councillors, and by the prevalent feeling 
of wonder at the eclipse, the earthquake, and the rending 
of the veil of the temple, may steal the corpse away and 
bury it totally out of reach; and then on the third day 
suddenly produce in the city one of their party dressed 
up as their Master risen from the dead. A tumult and a 
revolution would follow, "and the last error should be 



Watching- the Sepulchre. 37 1 

worse than the first." They must, therefore, get posses- 
sion of His grave. 

Pilate, when they applied for a guard, wondered that 
Jesus was already dead. He had seen Him endure 
enough to kill ten ordinary men, and would not have 
been surprised if He had outlived the two thieves. He 
agreed with the chief priests that the Apostles might 
possibly pluck up courage enough to creep out of their 
hiding places under cover of the night and steal the body 
away — it would be an exploit, he must have thought, 
worthy of that kind of men. "You have a guard," said 
the governor to the chief priests, "guard it [the sepulchre 
and the corpse] as you know." They thus "made the 
sepulchre sure" by posting a guard of soldiers. 

They also caused the tomb to be sealed; that is to 
say, cords were drawn across the stone that closed it 
and fixed to the mass of the rock with sealing wax, 
which was stamped with the arms of Rome, as St. 
Chrysostom suggests ; or with the official seal of the city 
of Jerusalem, as others think; possibly with both. Thus 
if His disciples would "come and steal Him away," they 
must not only overcome the guard, an act of sedition and 
bloodshed, but they must also violate the Roman seal, a 
symbol as sacred as the warlike eagle itself. 

So it was that the grave and corpse of Jesus were 
forcibly taken from His friends' custody. The power of 
Rome and the malice of the Jews possessed His remains, 
acting together to prevent His resurrection from the 
dead, as they had been allied before to put Him to death. 
But with how different a result. For, whereas Jesus 
offered Himself to death with eagerness, He resents and 



372 The Death of Jesus. 

refuses the continuance of death's dominion over Him. 
He will break every seal and overcome all resistance in 
reassuming the fullness of His bodily life. And the very 
fact of His dead body having been in the possession of 
His enemies will only the more plainly prove the truth of 
His resurrection. 

The granting of the guard to the chief priests was 
Pilate's last word in these great events. He seems to 
have been annoyed that he should be called on to act 
with them any further — he thought he had done enough 
for them. It was with a show of irritation that he 
yielded to their request ; as if to say : Take the soldiers 
and be off with you and do as you please. Put the seal 
of your city, if you like, on that tomb. The wretched 
Man is dead and buried, and with His rotting corpse are 
buried all the hopes of His followers. But that is not 
enough for you, it seems. Well, then, I authorize you to 
affix the seal of the Empire on His grave to show the 
total collapse of His attempt to be your King. And if 
the remnants of "that seducer's" party undertake to 
steal His body away and to proclaim that He rose to life 
by a miracle, then I give you, who represent the Jewish 
priesthood, Rome's military power; use it upon them as 
you used it upon Him. And now leave me in peace. 
When will you let me alone that I may attend to more 
important matters than this miserable business? When 
shall I be done with your quarrel with Jesus of Nazareth ? 

Aye, Pontius Pilate! Well mayst thou ask that 
Question: When shall I be done with Jesus and His 
Cause and His enemies ? In vain, in vain, and forever in 
yain shalt thou wish to be done with Jesus of Nazareth, 



Watching the Sepulchre. 373 

King of the Jews. This is thy last recorded act. But to 
the end of time each soul that believes in Jesus will say 
every day of his life : "He suffered under Pontius Pilate." 

All hail to the holy corpse of Jesus. It rests upon 
the bosom of poor mother earth as upon its chosen bed, 
clay upon clay, divine clay upon earthly clay, innocent 
clay upon clay defiled by an infinitude of sin. Thou art 
hidden from us, Thou body so tenderly loved, but only 
for a brief moment of time. Thou hast our very hearts 
enclosed with Thee in Thy grave, and Thou shalt soon 
restore them to us overflowing with the joy of Thy resur- 
rection. 

Lord Jesus, when we bury a beloved friend, it soothes 
our heart-break to say : Mayst thou rest in peace ; and we 
mean his soul's rest. O now we mean Thy body, Thy 
poor, tortured body, when we say with inexpressible re- 
lief: Mayst Thou rest in peace in Thy quiet grave. 
Around this, Thy resting place, Thy loving angels watch 
for a little while, till the mightiest of them all shall roll 
back the stone to admit Thy returning Spirit. Then they 
shall all burst forth into their song of triumph, more 
ours than theirs, but better sung by heaven's voices than 
by earth's. 

And when I come to die, O Lord, inspire many 
affectionate hearts to say over my grave: May he rest 
in peace. So that my waiting in Purgatory's sad tomb 
may be but for a little while, and my eternal resurrection 
and union with Thee may soon be hailed by my faithful 
angels and my devout friends in paradise. 



3 74 The Death of Jesm. 

The Prayer of St Ignatius. 

(Cardinal Newman's translation.) 

Soul of Christ, be my sanctification ; 

Body of Christ, be my salvation ; 

Blood of Christ, fill all my veins ; 

Water of Christ's side, wash out my stains ; 

Passion of Christ, my comfort be; 

O good Jesu, listen to me ; 

In Thy wounds I fain would hide ; 

Ne'er to be parted from Thy side ; 

Guard me, should the foe assail me; 

Call me when my life shall fail me ; 

Bid me come to Thee above, 

With Thy saints to sing Thy love, 

World without end, Amen, 



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